tergiversation
by Senzafine
Summary: He is more than his sins. She's more than just a brat. While attempting to piece together one clone’s shattered life, they find, in the process, each other through the threads of war, fate and memory. [post AC, pre DoC, Yuffentine]
1. homecoming

**tergiversation** tuhr-jiv-uhr-SAY-shuhn, _noun_:  
**1.** The act of practicing evasion or of being deliberately ambiguous.  
**2.** The act of abandoning a party or cause.

**homecoming**

One second more and then, a crash of something metallic and something very heavy slamming against cracked linoleum reverberated throughout the tiny apartment. She cringed, hunching up her shoulders and pursing together her lips in a tight O. Perhaps, if she closed her eyes and walk away slowly from the mess, the remnants of the stove would weld together and float back upstairs, landing safe and sound right outside the kitchen's door. Or, as her dark eyes fluttered back and forth, she could make a break for it, run behind the bar and climb up the tree, hoping to good God that no one heard the stove fall down the ten steps out front, only to slam against the parked motorcycle that now laid on its side, its wheels spinning over and over again.

"YUFFIE!"

Too late.

Yuffie turned, her face already breaking into a smile. The boy couldn't be more then ten, but he was dressed from top to bottom with clothes slightly altered but most definitely taken from Cloud's wardrobe. With his feet planted on top of the front porch and both hands clutching a rather large broom, Yuffie swore she saw Cloud in that same pose, many times before.

"Why don't we keep this between us, huh? How 'bout that?"

Denzel shook his head, causing Yuffie to laugh again, reaching out a hand to ruffle his messy hair.

"I'm tellin' you something, kid, it was –"  
"That's CLOUD'S bike!"

Denzel pointed at the scratched Fenrir, waving his broom in the air. "And Cloud LOVES his bike."

"Oh, you're a cute one, ain't ya."

--

It happened so quickly, just one melodic note that danced in the air and faded to nothing. Perhaps it was just another phantom that clung to him, morphing his present actions with the nostalgia of the past. But then, another melodic note and another and another.

With one hand pressed against the window, he stared down at Yuffie and Denzel, running in circles around and around the stove Yuffie dropped, now lying in scattered pieces outside the bar.

Quietly, his other hand covering his mouth, Vincent laughed.

--

"Imma tellin' ya, livin' with a woman like Shera and NOT learning to cook, that's just askin for death. Just askin!"

"I'm sure of it."

Tifa smiled at the sound of Cid's gruff laugh, hearing every cigarette he ever smoked. Dressed in an apron of a rather bright shade of pink and bent over a sizzling hot pot, Cid looked almost comical if not for the lit cigarette perched on his lip.

"And yer spiky haired, poor excuse of a man tellin' me, ME that he can't have no cigarette ash on his food – DAMN HIM Tifa!"

Cid ripped the cigarette from his mouth and quite literally sprinkled a good curtain of ash with a fierce shake of his fist, "I'm tellin' ya, it'll toughen his guts! Damn straight!"

Tifa hid her smile behind her raised coffee mug. She uncrossed and then crossed her ankles, once, twice, swinging her legs as she did so. Sitting on the kitchen counter, Tifa could see the gigantic hole ripped through the walls of sheetrock and wood paneling, the disconnected gas pipes looking like open mouths begging for the stove Yuffie and Barret tore out with perhaps a bit too much glee. Beyond the open kitchen door, Tifa caught just a glimpse of Red's flaming tail, the curl of his body as he slept in a square of sunlight that glimpsed and shone through one of the bar's windows. And if she happened to just turn her head ever so slightly, she could watch Cid next to her, adding spices and bits of vegetables to a bubbling mass of brown strew. Scattered on the kitchen table were Marlene's dolls, Denzel's school books and a pile of letters, a tiny mountain that grew each day.

"Don't cha be giving none of that bullshit, bout savin' the world and all that. Got nothin' but chicken shit, damn right!"

Tifa took another slow sip of her coffee, marveling at the warmth that flowed from her mouth to the tip of her toes and swung her legs once more against the kitchen counter.

--

In two years, she grew so much. Her fingernails were now dotted with pale pink polish, her hair brushed up, out of her eyes and into a high ponytail. He remembered when her hair was barely enough to clip back with two barrettes, how her hand, clutched around her favorite doll, Carbuncle, seemed to him, perfect with its leaf-like, tiny network of veins.

He brushed his lips slightly against her forehead and sighed.

On the road, he mused, what did he expect to find? The roar of a car's engine, the sound of his gun firing, the smiles of unknown women.

In the end, it came back, as always, to this.

When Vincent appeared at the door of Seventh Heaven, everyone was a bit shocked at not just the fact that he came, but also, at how gaunt and how pale he was, even in the golden peak of summer. He wordlessly pointed to a giggling, fist-pumping-in-the-air Yuffie and sat himself in the corner of the living room, where the lamplight and the sunlight were dimmest.

But he caught that look in those crimson eyes before the shadows weaved themselves over Vincent.

It was longing and it was regret.

He knew the road that Vincent was traveling, painted in the same colors of Cloud's. He gave her up once, only once, because he too felt that he needed to go there, where only loneliness and regret followed.

And he came back, knowing that what mattered was Marlene, curled up in his arms and fast asleep.

He'll never let her go again.

Sighing, Barret shifted, taking in the green scent of Marlene, and gently rocked the hammock, his left leg striking against the ground in a steady, unwavering beat.

--

"I SAID --!"

"I heard you the first time!"

Yuffie's voice bellowed up and down the bar, her feet marching against the linoleum floor and hands pounding against each of the tables. She didn't have Tifa's patience to deal with Cid, in fact, she didn't even quite remember the last time Cid spoke to her without a swear, a middle finger, a stomping of his feet or a rapid combination of the three.

She sat down next to a sleeping Red, her hand reaching out to scratch his fur. Lying in the sun, his fur was warm and soft. Yuffie took in a deep breath, breathing in the scent of the desert moon and the sun baked canyon that Red always carried with him. She kept scratching the tuft of fur in between his ears as she half listened to Cid and Tifa in the kitchen. Red opened his eye and smiled up at her.

"Not so rough, okay?"

"Okay."

In silence, the two remained, Red's tail gently striking against Yuffie's lap. The flame at the tip of his tail shimmered in the sunlight and Yuffie's eyes remained fixed at the diamonds that reflected off the windows and against the flame.

And then Red said softly, "I'm sure he won't mind, you know, if you followed."

"I'm not like Tifa."

"He's not like Cloud."

--

Dinner was beef stew and biscuits Cid brought all the way from Rocket Town. They ate at the bar, spread out between four of the bar's tables. With the ceiling fans humming overhead and a vase of flowers at every table, the windows were cracked open to let in the smell of summer dusk He couldn't resist eating two bowls of stew, Cid ladling more and more beef and potatoes and carrots into his bowl each time he ate one spoonful. Sitting next to him, so close that her right elbow gently jabbed against his left arm, was Tifa, giggling at Denzel's story ("Can you believe it? She told me, Tifa, that she's going to MARRY me! What a –") and refusing to let Yuffie take a sip of the frosted beer she held in her other hand.

This morning when he woke up, Marlene's and Denzel's face beamed down at him and the scent of warm bread drifted up from the kitchen. The humid heat, the result of a heat wave that endured for the past week and a half, already clung to his forehead. Tiny beads of sweat glistened in the morning sun but he reached up anyway and hugged Marlene and Denzel, his arms spread wide to hold them both.

Now, sitting in the dusk of the summer evening, he titled his head back and up, to glance at the shadows of the ceiling fans. He closed his eyes as he felt the wind slightly lift his bangs and send a brief respite against the heat.

Tomorrow, he'll mow the lawn and set up the awning outside the bar. Denzel would probably want to go swimming, Marlene to the library and Tifa needed groceries. He'll drive each one to wherever they wanted, and bring back bundles and bags strapped to the back of his motorcycle. And at around seven, when the sun was just a sliver of light and shaded with the first of the night clouds, he'll walk to the church and sit quietly, his hands folded into his lap and head bowed. The silence that'll wash over him would be as quiet and as cool as the water that lapped against the stone fountain at the very center of the church.

Cloud opened his eyes when he felt a light tap against his shoulder. He looked up to meet the even stare of Vincent.

"Thank you for dinner."

He watched Vincent turn, his curtain of black hair fluttering in the breeze of the ceiling fan. Cloud shifted his eyes to glance sideways at the table next to him, where Yuffie sat, almost stone still, stirring wide circles into her bowl. And Cloud reached out and grabbed Vincent by the elbow, causing the tall man to pause in mid-step.

"Why don't you stay, for a beer?"

"Or you know, a cup of GODDAMN tea!" bellowed Cid.

Vincent glared down at Cloud, his face an unreadable blank, the eyes that shone ruby even in the dim light. For the first time, in a long while, Cloud saw Vincent's smile as the gruff older man pulled Vincent to the table next to Cloud.

Yuffie looked up as Vincent sat down, and Cloud saw the sun break across her face.

Almost by instinct, Cloud placed a hand over Tifa's and thought to himself, if only Vincent knew. In Cloud's head, he thought of what he'll say, sketching each word over and over again until it was perfect.

When Vincent leaves, he'll stare into the depths of his ruby, glimmering, sad eyes and say, Come back home.

This time, Cloud thought as he glanced around the room, this time Vincent would know where to go.

In the distance, the first sound of thunder was heard, as if invisible hands were applauding and the rain that fell was as soft and as slight of the sound of Marlene's feet as she danced with her stuffed doll, around and around in interweaving circles.


	2. high and low

**high and low**

When sunlight strikes the eastern side of Edge, the angel that stands guard over the central square is basked in golden light. From atop the roof of Seventh Heaven, Cloud could see the angel now, stone wings now flooded with tints of gold, cold eyes now cast with a halo of light. He closed his eyes slowly and let out a deep breath. It's been so long since he's been able to breathe like that without his chest seizing in pain.

Sometimes, Cloud forgets that he's no longer inflicted with Geostigma, and walks slowly, as if any moment his heart would start to race and his face crumble in pain. But then, Cloud touches the scar, a tiny crooked fissure on his bicep, and remembers that he's cured. He can run around, chasing Marlene or kick a soccer ball high up in the air and screaming for Denzel to run after it. He'll play and laugh and run with the kids until the late afternoon turns into evening, every day during the long summer.

Afterwards, he'll go to the kitchen and eat whatever food Tifa would store away, covered in plastic wrap and hidden in the crooks and nannies of the cupboards, the refrigerator, the new stove. He'll make a plate for himself and bring it out to the bar, sitting behind the counter and watching Tifa make drinks or chat with the customers.

And before they all went to bed, Cloud would lock Seventh Heaven up, each of the four locks clicking once, twice in the air, sounding like bells.

Now, watching the sunset over Edge, Cloud takes a long sip of his beer, the can sweating in his grip and waits.

--

The worst thing about summer, Vincent mused, is that regardless of his own personal wishes, he was forced to show more of his skin than he would ever want to. It wasn't the sleeveless shirt, something he was positive came from Cloud's closet, or the sandals that still felt awkward on his feet as he walked down the quieting streets of Edge. Rather, it was his claw that Vincent felt he needed to hide. It was a physical reminder of his own melancholy, though Vincent wanted no one else to look at it and become frightened.

But of course, little kids ran off, darting into corners or far from his reach, the moment they saw Vincent. Some of them would point and laugh, others just ran away in quiet fear. Of course, Vincent never saw the faces of the children, his red eyes always downcast and staring at the ground.

He stood outside Seventh Heaven, fixing the collar of his shirt with one hand as he gently raked the edge of his claw up and down his jean clad thigh. Maybe he could run away, before anyone –

"Hey! Up here!"

A beer can bounced once, twice, striking the square of concrete before Vincent's eyes. He glanced up, and if he squinted hard enough, he could make out the form of Cloud, sitting on the edge of the roof.

--

"Sometimes, I forget, you know, what it meant to have Geostigma."

Cloud pulled out a can of beer from the twelve pack that sat next to him. His eyes, still disarmingly a brilliant blue even in the twilight, were kind as he watched Vincent take the beer from his hand. He swung his legs back and forth, letting his bare feet skim against the walls of the bar as he looked up at Vincent.

"-To have a monster in you."

Vincent opened the can of beer, sending a gunshot of a sound into the silence. Lifting the can to his mouth, Vincent took a big gulp of amber liquid in hopes that perhaps this would untangle the sudden twist of his throat.

"Yeah, Vincent, I just wanted to tell you something."

Cloud opened a beer for himself as Vincent, with a sigh, took of his sandals and sat next to Cloud, swinging his legs over the edge of the roof. High above their heads, Vincent could see the birds, flying in lazy circles and through the descending night clouds. Down below, children played hopscotch and jump rope, mothers held giggling babies and old men wondered the streets, their hands clutched behind their back.

The beer can in his hand was cold, colder then the dark of basements and dark closets.

"And all I wanted to say was -"

In all the time he knew him, Cloud could never remember Vincent wearing anything besides his black jumpsuit and the red cape that clung to his frame like a vampire. It was a change, and seeing Vincent dressed like that, made Cloud smile.

He lifted a hand to brush aside a stray bang and said softly, "It can be cured."

--

"It's okay, Tifa! Really! They won't mind!"

At least, Yuffie prayed, they wouldn't. She ran up the stairs, past the second floor and hollered back a greeting to Marlene who peeked her head out of the bedroom at all the noise. She ran all the way to the rooftop's door, pausing only once to catch her breath.

"Hey! –" The greeting fell flat on her lips.

This is what she saw.

Empty beer cans scattered all over the roof and Vincent's sandals lined perfectly next to each other, like soldiers. Cloud stood next to the roof's edge and offered a hand to Vincent, who still sat, staring down at the street below him.

And Cloud said, as clear and as bright as the first streetlamp that turned on at the end of the sunrise, "You can come back here, anytime."

Yuffie clamped a hand over her mouth and tried to edge her way back downstairs when Vincent's eyes turned to glance at her. Softly he said, "Hey."

Cloud smiled towards her as well as Vincent took Cloud's offered hand and stood.

"Yuffie," Vincent's eyes, in twilight, looked almost warm brown, the color of the earth, "Time for dinner already?"

--

In the dark of midnight, Vincent stood by the open window in the guest room, both hands against the window still. He leaned his body out to the night air and glanced up at the half moon. It could be cured, Cloud said.

Vincent wished he could believe him.


	3. never the same, ever again

**never the same, ever again**

What she hated about home was that she was forced to bow to everyone who crossed her path. It was, they said, very fitting for a princess though she could never understand how such an act of subservience could speak of royalty. Not like that stuff mattered to her anyway.

"Pst – don't stare, Reno!" whispered Yuffie through her clenched jaw as she noticed the red-haired man staring outright at the bowed head of the elderly woman before them.

"Yo, you don't gotta do that." Reno reached out a hand to clasp on the woman's elbow, his face already made up into a goofy grin. "Yo, really, don't."

Yuffie let a long sigh escape her lips as she watched the woman look up at Reno, the crisscross of wrinkles widening with her smile. "You're a sweet one, aren't you?" "Yo, call me the sweetest!" Reno laughed, one hand still lightly resting against the woman's elbow.

"Yeah right!" GAH! Yuffie clamped both hands over her mouth, her face already blushing with her sudden outburst. The woman glanced over at her, and hurriedly bowed her head again. "Ah, I'll go make sure Lord Godo knows you're here."

They watched in silence as the woman adjusted the sleeves of her kimono and bowed her head once more in parting. Reno let out a low whistle that danced about the long expanse of the pagoda's entry hall. In his eyes, Yuffie could see his wonder at the carved red lacquer tables, the intricate screen panels that cut the hall into different sections and the jade dragons, carved so realistically that Yuffie, as a little girl, thought they were real, living things. She shuffled her feet against the floor, staring at her feet and heard Reno say, with the slightest hint of laughter, "Yo, girl, you sure this the place?"

--

"BUT RED, I DON'T WANNA!"

Yuffie shook her head, frantically, as Red paced the floor in front of her, his tail flicking back and forth so rapidly in disapproval that the flames crackled and sent tiny sparks into the air.

"Oh, Yuffie, it'll be just for a few days."

"I told ya before! I don't wanna go home for a while." Yuffie rubbed viciously at her face with the back of her hand and adjusted the strap that held her shuriken to her back. "Can't ya just ask Reeve to do it for himself?"

In the two years since the Meteor incident, Cosmo Canyon has became, under the calm and insightful leadership of Red, a spiritual haven for the wayward and the lost. Yuffie heard the distant chanting of monks and the ringing of bells, a sweet sound she never got tired of hearing. Now, however, the serenity of the sounds and the ever patient look of Red's face caused Yuffie only to squirm in discomfort.

"Red, if I go back, don't cha know Dad's never letting me leave again?"

Red walked to where Yuffie stood, leaning against the doorframe of the study's entrance and gently rubbed his furry head against her left leg. "That's a lousy excuse."

His laugh was a low rumble, sounding like thunder. "You never let anyone tell you what to do."

"And besides Yuffie, all you have to do is guide Reno there."

"GAH! Can't that bonehead find anything for himself?"

--

Yuffie was still angry at the thought of it all. As she sat, legs folded under her, before a low oak table, she glared directly at Reno, who could barely use the chopsticks to pick up the delicate silvers of fish set before him. Dressed in a brilliant, scarlet red kimono and grey hakuma pants, Reno appeared almost tamed by his clothes the moment he stepped out of his room to model it before Yuffie. Now, watching him attempt to eat his dinner made Yuffie notice, even more so then ever, the unrefined edges of Reno's personality. She grimaced as she watched Reno grab a piece of tuna sashimi in between the vise of his thumb and forefinger and drop it into his open mouth.

"And Yuffie, how has it been lately?"

The sound of her father's voice made Yuffie's shoulders stiffen. She turned to see her father smile at her, his eyes still bright. There was a touch of gray to his hair and the crow's feet that peppered the corners of his eyes deepened, but nothing else has changed. He was the same Godo, a shirt of chainmetal glimmering in the triangle made between the two folds of his yellow kimono robe.

Yuffie wrung a napkin over and over in her hands as she spoke, making sure to keep her face an even smile though her heart raced like mad in her chest.

"It's been good Dad."

"Where are you staying now? Not with Cloud and Tifa?"

From the corner of her eye, Yuffie saw Reno glancing up at her, a piece of sashimi dangled in his hand. In the brown wood and red lacquer of the hall, Yuffie was taken back at how brilliantly green his eyes were.

She lowered her glance back to the napkin lying in her lap and said, "I go everywhere, Dad, but when I needa place to rest, I got Cosmo Canyon."

"Ah, what a beautiful place it must be! Did you hear Suyuan went there for a cleansing ritual and decided to be a nun? YOUR OWN COUSIN! A NUN!"

In Godo's wide mouth laugh, Yuffie could hear the brass and iron of the rice whiskey he drank every night. His laugh reminded her of her childhood days spent chasing and running throughout the pagoda, searching for treasures he hid. He would laugh just like that each time she presented, proudly with her face turned to the air, each uncovered gift; new shuriken, packets of origami paper tied together with ribbon, boxes of sugared plums, caramels, pineapple candy, her favorites.

"You know, Wutai must be pretty boring, now you seen the place you had."

"Dad." Yuffie smiled back at Godo, the napkin falling to the floor as she reached over to hug her father.

And she whispered in his ear, "I missed you."

--

In the silence of her bedroom, Yuffie sat, her head bowed, one hand lightly resting against her forehead.

"Yo, hey, you there?"

Yuffie looked up to see Reno, her hand already moving to brush away the tears the lingered in her eyes. "You crying!" Reno's voice was incredulous as Yuffie shook her head frantically, trying to cover her face with the wide sleeve of her junihitoe. "Yo, I can leave if ya –"

"It was my mother's." Yuffie said softly, touching the front of her twelve layered kimono. "She was married in it."

Another low whistle and Reno sat himself down besides Yuffie, placing his hand in the red mess of his hair. "It's pretty, ya know." Reno twirled a cigarette in his other hand and Yuffie had to smile at the ease of Reno's movements. She remembered the one time Vincent came to Wutai and had to wear a black kimono. He was never one to show how awkward or discomforted he was, but Yuffie knew, by the way Vincent kept one hand clasped tightly against the knot of his slash, as if he didn't trust the robe to remain shut. But with Reno, he moved as if he wore kimono and hakuma all his life.

A flame flickered brightly in the shaded cool of her screened room and then, Reno placed the lit cigarette in his mouth. "Yo, Yuffie." He took a long drag of his cigarette before letting a cloud of smoke drift into the air. "Just sayin', you know –"

"And Dad gave it to me and said, _I don't think you'd come back here._" Yuffie glanced up at the smoke that bellowed overhead. "He asked me why I left."

"And in the end, I couldn't even answer cause, I don't even know."

Yuffie suddenly remembered where she was and who she was talking to. "HEY! WHATCHA DOIN' IN MY ROOM ANYWAY, PERV?"

Reno leaned forward and took the cigarette out of his mouth. The tiny red dot of his lit cigarette looked like a tiny sun, burning brightly. He wiped the back of his mouth with his free hand and looking evenly at Yuffie, said softly, "Yo, this place ain't right for you."

"Sure, it's pretty, but I betcha you can't run none in it. Or throw anything, ya know?"

Yuffie sniffed and replied, "Can I erm, take a puff?" Reno placed the cigarette in her lips and the taste of nicotine in her mouth tasted sweeter then she thought possible. She let a long stream of smoke drift from the tiny circle of her lips up to the air above their bowed heads.

She took out the cigarette to hand it back to Reno and then, he leaned forward to kiss her, just once, his lips firmly placed over her own. His mouth tasted like the dinner he just ate with his hands, his lit cigarette and the mango gum he always chewed but underneath it, Yuffie could taste the bare essence of him; it sparkled like fire.

When they drew apart, Yuffie stared at the straw mats and the rise of his grey lap. "Reno, I erm –"

"Just wanted you to know, that man can't love nobody. Yo, you know that."

"What are you talking -?"

Reno stood up, his hakuma flapping with his sudden movements. "Yo, I'm talkin' bout Vincent."

He said just one thing more before he walked out of her door into the twilight of the courtyard, "But I can. Just sayin'."

--

He never felt comfortable when talking about official things. Since Shin-RA ceased to exist as the militaristic conglomerate it once was, Reno never fully understood why Rufus and Reeve continued to call him a Turk. When he got nervous, his "yo"s and "doncha know?"s and "you know that"s slipped from his vocabulary and he stood, his back straight and eyes forward.

"And, you see, Lord Godo, if the law Reeve's proposing is passed, Wutai will be the first country that'll see the changes of –"

"She'll never be the same, ever again, eh, Reno?" Godo interrupted Reno's speech as he placed the cup of sake firmly on his desk.

Reno shifted his eyes to the ground, to peer at the gold plated dragon painted on the hardwood floor, "No, I don't think she will, my Lord."

--

At night, the trees surrounding the Forgotten City sparkled and shimmered. It was silver light, metallic and cold. There was a patch of trees next to the ruins he called home, and a snippet of a meadow next to it, the grasses long and wavering in the breeze.

It was in this meadow that Vincent found him, slumped unconscious and bleeding through his mouth.

Vincent rocked forward on his heels as he leaned over the fallen man. Silver hair fell like a liquid river through the shafts of long grass and his clothes were torn, ripped into shreds. Vincent sighed softly, and placed a hand on the unconscious man's forehead.

Vincent knew who he was, and said his name out loud, the sound of it cleaving the night air and the eerie light into fragments of themselves.

"Yazoo."

--

Author's Notes:

So I envisioned Wutai as predominately medieval Japanese in culture. Because of this, some of the clothing Yuffie and Reno wore in this chapter might need explaining.

Junihitoe – twelve layered kimono, usually worn by royalty and designed in such a way that all twelve layers are shown in the collar and the sleeves.

Hakuma – wide trousers usually worn over a simple, basic kimono. It's a typical formal wear for Japanese men.

Meep! I can't believe how long I've been waiting to write this fanfic! I've always been a fan of Vincent and Yuffie (though I won't state my preference as the two as a pairing.. only cause that'll ruin the story!) and thought the circumstances that lead them both to where they are at the start of Dirge of Cerberus needed to be explained.


	4. disjointed

**disjointed**

--

I'm sorry, but I can't answer the phone. You can leave a message for me, if you want. **Press 1 to leave a message or wait for the tone. Press 5 to leave a numeric page. beep**.WHY BUY A PHONE WHEN YA DON'T EVEN USE IT? It's just wastin' your time, and mine, leaving all these messages. Erm, why doncha just call me back? I… yeah, erm, just wonderin' how things are, Vincent. Call me. **beep**

--

Waking up as the first streaks of light were still a tender eggshell pink on the dark of the horizon, he could feel the chill of early fall set adrift in the air. There was a makeshift table he made from a door and four concrete blocks he found when exploring the ruins. On top of the table sat a vase of flowers, white bells that dropped in the darkness of his home, and a loaf of bread, dotted with poppy seeds, encased in plastic wrap. By the vase was a crayon drawing of him, so ridiculously cute that sometimes he found it hard to look at.

In a lopsided line, framing his picture was blocky letters, written in ink as black as his hair. COM VIZ IT SOON! – D & M. _They miss you_, Cloud had said, just a week ago when he delivered the bread and the flowers, along with a wheel of cheese and a package of sausages. _Tifa misses you, too._ Out of the kindness of their hearts, Cloud always managed to drive all the way to the Forgotten Capital, once a week to drop off care packages Tifa, Denzel and Marlene made for him. Even with all of Vincent's protests, and the one time he tried to give back the food, Cloud still dropped off a delivery at the start of each week, just like clockwork. Now after three months of this, Vincent actually looked forward to it; to Cloud's ready chatter and easy laugh, stories of Denzel and Marlene and photographs with written letters on the back in Tifa's long, flowing handwriting. However, last week, when Cloud handed Vincent the bouquet of flowers, laughing at how intent Marlene was to give it to him, Vincent was startled. His hands shook as he took them from Cloud, and as he held them in the crook of his arms, the scent of their loveliness was almost too much for Vincent to bear.

When everybody else came to visit him, they begged and pleaded for Vincent to move out of this place, citing all sorts of ridiculous offers (including a backroom in one of Cosmo Canyon's Alchemy Libraries, a floor on the very top of a pagoda in Wutai, a luxury apartment paid by Reeve, half of the house Barret was currently building in Edge and the most humorous offer of all, a coffin in the basement of Cid's house in Rocket Town). And to each one, Vincent just shook his head, again and again.

But Cloud just placed a hand on Vincent's shoulder and said, before he left, each and every time, _Give me a call when you want me to bring the kids._ The silence that fell over the ruins, and the tiny corner that Vincent called home, swelled the moment the sounds of Fenrir's engine faded into the distance. In the hours after Cloud left, Vincent slept to ward off acute sense of loneliness, and to forget Cloud's offer. Just one call, and two days later, Cloud would come with not just the kids, but Tifa as well, filling the place with voices, human voices that rose in anger, glowed with laughter and shone with warmth.

But as much as he loved Denzel and Marlene, this was no place for kids. In fact, Vincent thought as he stood up from the folded blanket he slept on, this was no place for the living.

Vincent walked over to the bucket he kept filled with cold water and crouched over it, his hands cupped. He dipped his hands into it, breaking the still surface of the water, and splashed his face over and over again, scrubbing it clean. He ran his fingers through his hair and stretching, he put on the shirt that lay crumpled near the table.

He rummaged through its pockets until he found his cell phone and flipped open the cover. **_12 Missed Calls_** read the flashing neon of his phone and scrolling through the call list, he had to smile. 6 of them were from Yuffie. Crossing his arms, one resting over his right shoulder as his claw scratched absentmindedly at his left elbow, Vincent paused to think.

What if Cloud found out, Vincent thought, and revert back to his old self?

He turned to look at the long shadow of Yazoo asleep on the floor, in a corner far from where Vincent slept, a blanket folded around and around his body. Yazoo had been asleep for the past two days, tossing and turning, sometimes raising his arm and letting out a terrified yell as if to defend himself from his nightmares.

What would Yazoo do when he woke up? Vincent knew nothing of forgiveness or redemption. He never exercised such beliefs on himself and so, he knew he couldn't teach them to Yazoo. Perhaps the man would try to kill him, taking the vase and smashing it against the floor, grabbing a piece of its broken shard and jamming it against the tender part of Vincent's throat.

In the darkest part of Vincent's heart, he wondered why he didn't just shoot Yazoo now, two shots to the man's head and watch his blood drip across the floor like a river.

Yazoo let out another wounded cry and Vincent turned away from the sleeping man. In the end, Vincent didn't know who to call or what to do. Instead, he walked to the table and reached for the bread. It was getting to be morning already, and Vincent was hungry.

--

Cloud uncrossed his legs and looked at the school in front of him. He placed one hand against the stone, backless bench he sat on and marveled at how cool it was to the touch. He smiled to himself, thinking of Denzel and how utterly angry he looked this morning, running down the stairs and dragging his backpack behind him, saying _School! Summer just started!_ Over Denzel's loud protests, Tifa still managed to tell Cloud about a recent phone call from Reeve and Yuffie, give Cloud a list of deliveries that he needed to make by the end of the week, force a bottle of yogurt and an apple into Denzel's hands and get both of them out of the bar and into the haze of early morning.

Denzel had stood there, blinking as Cloud mounted Fenrir, casually swinging one leg over the motorcycle with a smile on his face. _Tifa's insane!_ Denzel said in a mocking half whisper. And Cloud only laughed, nodding in agreement as Denzel scampered up the back of the bike and clung to Cloud with both arms crossed tight.

Now, it was three in the afternoon and Fenrir sat parked near the playground. Cloud ran a hand through his hair, noticing how long his bangs have gotten, how tan his hand was. Contrary to what Denzel said, summer was more than just one fleeting day, golden, bright and then fading away. This summer, for Cloud, was filled with bright mornings and afternoons speeding around on Fenrir, playing soccer and tag with Denzel and Marlene in the cool of the evening, nights on the roof drinking with Barret and Tifa, and that one particularly pleasing 4 day delivery trip to Cosmo Canyon accompanied by of all people, Cid who managed to get one of the head monks to play a bout of poker and smoke a cigarette.

This summer, for Cloud, was full of life and moments of such profound peace that sometimes, he wondered how he could have felt any other feeling than this. Sometimes when Cloud was by himself, like now, sitting on a bench and waiting for Denzel, he wondered truly if anything else existed outside the bar with its seven windows and filled with the happy chirping voices of Denzel, Marlene and Tifa.

Peace, mused Cloud, was what she wanted.

He held one hand up, past his head and against the afternoon sun. The skin between his fingers glowed in the light, turning almost translucent.

It was May 3rd of this spring, Tifa's birthday, when Cloud held a defeated Kadaj in his arms and felt the healing touch of rain falling over his body, as if in blessing. In the months that followed, Cloud thought of Aeris with a new feeling of tenderness. Gone were the leaden chains of regret and pain. Instead, he chose to fill his heart, every corner of it, with the present and the sensation of living and knew, somewhere deep inside of him, that this was, finally, the right way.

His thoughts were interrupted with the sight of Denzel emerging from school, his backpack pounding against his back as he ran to where Cloud sat.

"HEY CLOUD!" Denzel screamed that greeting over and over again, and Cloud gently lowered his hand to let it rest, once more against the cold stone of the bench.

"Zel, my man! How was school?"

--

_When it was bad, really bad, he would sit, with his arms crossed over his head as his fingernails dig, deep and deep, into the soft flesh of his scalp. He would feel the skin give way under sharp nails and the blood pulsing underneath. _

_Some nights, he would claw and scratch at his chest, beating at it with his fist and still, the thing inside of him screamed and screamed._

_Not feeling anything, ripping skin and drawing blood, he would throw back his head and let out one animal howl. He would wiggle back and forth, tearing and biting at his arms, his fingers and slam his forehead against the floor._

_One, two, three._

_When his forehead slammed against the cold concrete for the third time, his heart ceased to pound, the thing inside of him pausing for just a few moments to rest. And his hands would fall limply against his sides, his nails flecked with crimson blood and he would lie still, very still, to count each breath._

_It always came in threes. _

--

When his eyes opened, the first thing he saw was red light. For some reason, he thought the sun was exploding, and he tried to get up to see. But to ease himself up on both elbows proved to cause blades of pain to pierce against his sides and in exhaustion, he let his head fall back, his face upturned to the shafts of filtered light.

And the light he saw wasn't from the sun, at least not directly. It was from a cape, torn and frayed at the edges, flying against the humid breeze that drifted from the open window. Catching the late evening sun, standing by the window, the cape seemed to float on it's own.

He stared almost lovingly at the glowing red light and then noticed that there was a very tall, slender man watching him, shoulders hugged by the cape. And something in his ear buzzed and a hot, metallic taste filled his mouth

"DON'T!" He screamed just once before everything went black.

--

_They hugged each other, so tight, in the darkness because that's all they knew; each other. _

_They were, after all, brothers._

_--_

It was the same pain that tore at Vincent. When Yazoo screamed, Vincent remembered a coffin that felt hotter than hell itself and shadows that stung like ice. As he crouched over the unconscious man, Vincent could see the tears that clung to the corner of Yazoo's eyes. Deep scars embroidered his cheeks and laced themselves down his neck like latticework.

There was a demon in him.

--

Hey, hey, hey! This is Marlene! And DENZEL the man! AND YOU GOT…. CLOUD'S VOICEMAIL! Yipee! YAY! **Press 1 to leave a message or wait for the tone. Press 5 to leave a numeric page. beep**. Cloud, it's Vincent. We need to talk. **beep**


	5. breakdown

_disclaimer: some strong language, and this chapter's mostly Cloud related. Don't worry, the next one is all Vincent, promise! Thanks so much for the reviews... they're quite encouraging! _

**breakdown**

The sound of the door slamming echoed off the quiet hallways and like a slap, woke him from a leaden sleep. Getting up from the bed, he almost slipped on the stuffed elephant by his bedside and the pair of sneakers he kicked off moments before he went to sleep, hours before. Struggling to pull on a crinkled t-shirt, he stumbled his way down the hallway and almost tripped himself down the stairs.

There was already someone down there, head bowed in thought.

"Tifa?" Denzel tugged at her limp hand, shocked at how cold her fingers were. In the slanted moonlight, Denzel could see the shimmer of tears that hugged the skin around her eyes.

"Are you and Cloud fighting?" Denzel licked his lips, not quite sure if he wanted to hear her answer. The darkness swelled over them, a thick curtain that even made his breathing difficult. And when Tifa spoke, all she said was, "He'll come back." The squeeze of her hand made Denzel smile and he nodded, laughing away that tiny, tiny shadow of fear that crept at the back of his mind. "Sure he's just headed to Barret's." Denzel smiled and dragged Tifa back upstairs.

In the darkness, he couldn't see the shimmer of doubt that clouded her ruby eyes.  
---

It was as if a tiger was loosen upon the tiny enclosure of the ruin, and snarled each time he passed by. There were times at night that Vincent slept with his gun curled tightly in the vise of his hand, a habit he thought he outgrown since the day Cloud woke him from his coffin, years ago. Other times, Vincent stayed awake, waging a silent war with Yazoo to see who would let his guard down first.

Most of the time, Vincent climbed to the top of the ruin, sitting on a nearly crumbled roof and stare out at the reflection of the silver trees, the eerily bright lake with its sapphire fireflies. He was waiting for Yazoo to regain the use of his broken legs and kept a gun or two always loaded and ready by his side. In some deep corner of himself, Vincent looked off to the horizon and waited for the sound of Fenrir.

It's been six days, exactly, since Vincent dragged the unconscious, slumped body of Yazoo into the ruin he called home and four since Yazoo regained consciousness.

Time suddenly meant so much to Vincent, in a way that made his footsteps drag as he paced up and down the edge of the lake, watching as fireflies flew near his eyes, so bright that he almost felt like crying.  
--

He waited to feel her hand on his own, reaching from someplace beyond. The taste of rain, of her smell, anything. He wanted her to tell him that _it's okay. It's okay._

And when nothing came, when night deepened and the wind grew cold, he turned his face from Edge, from his home and drove to the horizon, trying as hard as he could to ignore the throbbing of his head and the blood that rose to his cheeks. His knuckles that clutched the motorcycle's handelbars were bare white. The roar of the motorcycle shattered the quiet of the night in harsh, mechanical screams.  
--

_"Yo, it's Barret. Sorry Tifa, but the kid ain't been around here. Called up Red and Cid, said they'll keep an eye outta for him. It's just, ya know, Tifa, thinkin' we just got our asses out of the big shit and now this happens. Marlene and me comin' over, don't want Denzel and you alone. Just waitin' for Marlene to come back from school, then headed straight over, right away."_

_"Hey, Tifa, Yuffie here. Don't worry, sure Vincent knows where Cloud ran off to. Cept he isn't answering his phone either. Peice of shit -- I'm gonna go hunt 'em down, 'kay? Want to come? Give me a call, yeah? Don't worry, Tifa."_

_"FUCKING PUSSY! TIFA, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN' ON? CALL ME BACK, SHERA'S ALREADY HAVING A FUCKING FIT OVER HERE."_

The phone shook in Tifa's hand and crouching in the corner of the church, she could smell the scent of the flowers that swayed gently in the breeze of the early fall evening. Her hair fell into her eyes as she lowered her head and held her hands crossed under her chin. The phone fell to her lap and the silence of the church engulfed her.

Her lips opened and closed, as if grasping for air. No words broke the dusky silence and all Tifa could think, over and over was _Cloud, don't. Don't._  
---

He slammed his hand against the mirror, knowing that wasn't enough to ease the pain inflicted inside his head and tore into his heart. Downstairs, the scent of opium and cheap sex wove delusion over the sleepy, intoxicated customers, the prostitutes with their too red lips and bruised eyes. In the tiny enclosure of his room, he couldn't escape the fumes of alcohol, of the cigarette still burning in its ashtray on the table. He was too scared of himself, of his rage, to consider any of the girls the Madame tried to offer him and instead, kept the door locked and a chair wedged underneath the lock.

He made a fist and punched the mirror, shattering its cracked surface and sending fragments of sharp glass flying towards his face.

_I don't want you to_, Tifa said, before Cloud left Seventh Heaven and practically flew out of Edge on a roaring Fenrir, _I don't want you to become like him._

_Fuck you._ It was as if he slapped her. Tifa's eyes jumped and her hand fell from his elbow to hang loosely against her side._ I have to._

_No, not anymore._

The bottle of wine shook in his hands as he lifted it to drink, throwing back his head to let loose the crimison wave down his thoart. A summer evening with Vincent on the roof, cold beer in hand, came flying back to Cloud's mind, so sharp and so crisp that he could almost see the bright blue of Vincent's flipflops against the grey concrete. And he told Vincent that it can be cured.

But there was a ghost in him too, Cloud could feel its cold fingers gripping at his heart. He swung the bottle haphazardly in the air, making rivers of wine fall over the floor and staining the slivers of broken mirror until they bleed. He walked in concentric circles, and kept his eyes focused on his free hand, his fingers clutching and unclutching as if they were trying to squeeze the truth out of his downcast eyes.

Five years in a cell, sprayed with Mako and hidden in a smoky darkness where the only light was the harsh gleam of the surgery room. In the deepest part of himself, Cloud knew what utter hopelessness looked like; it tasted like cold steel against a burning hot tongue. And the darkness in him was subsided by a kind voice coming from under the tiny crack in the wall that seperated their cells.

Zack died, saying the same thing Tifa said, _Don't turn out like him._

Like Sephiroth. Cloud collasped near the foot of his tiny bed, bringing his knees close to his chest. He kept one hand wrapped tightly over the neck of the wine bottle and traced out a pattern with his other hand in the field of broken glass near his feet. Just two circle, interlocking each other, over and over again.

This first thing Cloud thought of, when Vincent told him of Yazoo, was hate, so deep it caused a rapture in the peace that Cloud carried with him over the past months. Yazoo, on the verge of death, shot Cloud, a bullet that almost puncture his heart, a wound that left a tiny scar on his chest.It made his body flinch, even now, if his fingers happened to touch the shiny, star shaped scar.

If Yazoo aimed his gun just slightly, a quarter of an inch to the left, Cloud would have died.

He drank the wine, gulp after gulp, ignoring the sudden pounding at his door, or the coy sighs of the women that gathered below his balcony, flashing their bared breasts and short hems. The first thing Cloud told Vincent was to kill him, leave his body in a broken heap outside the Forgotten City. In the deepest part of himself, Cloud knew that the mirror's reflection, the one he smashed to bits, shone back with the eyes of Sephiroth, full of spite, of pain and of the hate that made his voice flare into a scream and a curse.

It must have been hours, or just minutes after when Cloud looked up, past his hands and out of the room, at the lightening sky, at the streak of eggshell pink that cracked against the blue-green of the horizon. A gentle wind slapped gently against the old shutters of the window and danced across his pounding forehead, like a soothing hand. He let his hand rest limpily on his knee, the empty bottle roll across the floor.

He stood up, and ignored the first pang of the hangover that he knew he'll battle with for the rest of the day. His bare feet made no sound as they crossed the floor of the room to the balcony, his face already open and welcoming to the rising sun.  
--

"He won't come."

His words were hurled out of his mouth like spit, burned like fire. Vincent shifted from one shoulder to his other, wrapping himself tighter in the blanket. The frost of the night hadn't subsided even in the awakening of the day. The ruin was filled with a half light that let Vincent make out the shape of Yazoo's half sitting, half sleeping figure, but could not see the expression across the man's face.

And Vincent said softly, "He needs to see you."

"You mean, to kill me." Yazoo's laugh was shrill, mocking in the half-lit shadows of the ruins. Vincent closed his eyes and perpared to sleep for a few more hours, at least until the sun was warm enough to warn off the cold winds that lapped at the surface of the glowing lake. "He's going to destroy me."

"That's why you didn't kill me yet, bastard, waiting for him to come and slice off my head. I'm just like Kadaj you know, I can -"

"Is that all you want to be,Yazoo?" Vincent's body shook; he never took well to the cold and the dampiness of the early fall. "Just a catalyst, waiting for your Mother?" Here Vincent's voice trailed to nothing, and the ruin grew quiet. Looking across the way, Vincent could see Yazoo still staring at him, the depths of his eyes perhaps swirling with clouds of hate.

There would be no redemption for anyone, Vincent knew, if they didn't let go of their hate. Self-inflicted or otherwise.

"Or you could be -." He closed his eyes, breathing in deep the sharp crystaline air. "-different." Vincent didn't say another word as he drifted off to an uneasy sleep, one hand still curled around the handle of his shotgun, and both ears open for the sounds of a distant engine.


	6. things borrowed, things needed

_author notes: I'm not too happy with the last chapter, **breakdown. **It was far too angsty for even me, and I usually LOVE angst. But I think I'm going to go back and rewrite chapter 5.. that is you know, if I have the chance. This chapter's going to be a break from all of that -- it's actually quite..well, for lack of a better word, squeezable.._

**things borrowed, things needed**

When they first met, she was somewhat freaked out by the red cape, the metal claw, the curtian of black hair that seemed to make his face as pale as snow, as white as a ghost. She tried to avoid eye contact with his ruby eyes, that glowed like Cloud's even in the dark of night. And the fact that he could stand perfectly still, with arms crossed and looking straight out to the distance without even a slight waver of distraction bothered her so baddly, she almost thought he was inhuman, a robot of macbre, but untouchable beauty. It didn't help either that she was forever bouncing around, chasing Red all over the airship and stealing from the hoardes of candy Cid kept locked away in his desk. But when they seperated, when she traveled back home in a tiny room on the back of a cargo ship that was half the size of the Highwind's loading dock, she remembered, suddenly the first time he ever spoke to her, shifting his weight from one leg to another as he tried to peer over her shoulder at the approaching figure of Cloud. And he addressed her by name, "Yuffie, I would appericate it if you stop stealing Cid's candy -- for some reason, I'm getting blamed for it."

She laughed so hard when he said that, and filled his hands with brightly wrapped candy, each one a jewel in his limp hands. "It's cause you look like a friggin' vamp, Vincent!" And she ran off, laughing, pushing past Cloud who returned her grin just as brightly.

Once she got back home, standing in the stiff foyer and staring at the wooden dragons, captured forever in mid-flight, the tiny fragment of loneliness she kept buried in her heart suddenly swelled, weighing down her shoulders. The lamp was lit, a rose red glow that leaked and spilled its way across the granite floor and looking at her feet, she recalled with a sudden tightening of her stomach, Vincent's crimson eyes, caught in the reflection of a sunset.

She remembered all this, and more, as she tightened the buckle around her chest that held her shuriken pressed against her back. The tweleve layered kimono fell over the edge of her bed like a waterfall, a sunburst of color. There was a makeshit ash tray, nothing more but an box folded out of three newspaper sheets, on the low, laquered table by the bed, holding the shimmering contents of three cigarettes, one still lit and sending faint trails of smoke above her head. She bent over to lace her boots, making sure to tighten the shoestrings at each of the boots' eyelets and gathered together all her throwing darts in the satchel she kept against her hip.

One last thing - she ruffled and rummaged through her closet until she found a black sweater, it's V-neck crisscrossed with useless straps and silver buckles. It was going to be cold, once night fell. She rolled the sweater into a tight cynlinder and stuffed it into her satchel, along with a heavy purse of money, her cellphone and three boxes of chocolate - APOLLO'S strawberry cream truffles. Wiping her fist against her shorts, she sighed.

Already the choas that she felt in the past week at home was already disappearing. All packed up and ready to go, she crouched by her door, listening until the last traces of the maids' and the servants' footsteps faded into silence.

--

Rude waited for Reno, quietly outside the door, as he overheard the rumble of Rufus' and Reeve's voice, interweaving through the air. All Rude could make out clearly was Reeve's constant praise of, "Good, good, good!" If Reno said anything at all in reply, Rude didn't hear it. The door slammed and before Reno could run off, perhaps to stand outside in the falling twilight and smoke away his formalities, Rude placed a hand on Reno's shoulder and drew the younger man aside.

"So, how'd it go?"

Reno attempted a weak smile, "Just like you thought, ya know. Girl's so into him, can't even see me, right under her nose, yo."

He lowered his head, refusing to meet the look of defeat in Reno's eyes. And all he could mumble was, "You know, it's gonna get old. Vincent -- the old man's too jaded."

Reno smirked, and shook off Rude's shoulder. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a half empty pack of mango gum. Flipping one peice, like a coin, over his shoulder to Rude, Reno unwrapped another peice and tossed it back into the red cavern of his mouth. He chewed voilently on the gum for a few seconds and rummaged through his pockets again until he withdrew a silver cigarette case. With one hand he held the cigarette case over his head, a finger gently tapping against the metal cover. The sound of his tapping echoed around the quiet of the room.

When Reno finally turned to look at Rude, the sadness, the brief pain that Rude swore danced brilliantly in the depths of his green eyes was gone, replaced now with Reno's usual teasing, smart-ass glare.

"Let's go find some booze, yo!"

--

**Your call has been redirected to the voicemail of Tifa Lockhart. beep. **Tifa's phone, but I'm sure you're calling to figure out the whereabouts of a certian Denzel, or the every elusive Cloud. Unlike them, I promise I'll return your call! - TIFA! I'M NOT ELUSIVE! **Press 1 to leave a message or wait for the tone. Press 5 to leave a numeric page. beep.** It's me. I'm - tell Zel not to worry, I'm headed home soon. Um.. I had no right to say those things I said... pretty positive everyone's havin' a cow over me.. you know, I'm.. Tifa, I'm sorry. It's just that.. sorry. I'm sorry, Tifa. **beep.**

--

He struck first, so fast and feirce, Vincent was caught off guard. Yazoo's fist sank deep into Vincent's stomach as the other sank around the soft flesh of his thoart, his fingernails digging in deep. He tried to raise Vincent off the floor, both hands now wrapped around his neck. The blanket that laid over Yazoo's body fell to the floor as one of Vincent's legs kicked out, as if wailing helplessly.

"Helpless, just like everyone else." Yazoo's voice was a soft, soft thing, so sweet that it burned the roof of Vincent's mouth. Yazoo's eyes closed and when they opened again, Vincent found himself staring into the eyes of Sephiroth, aquamarine, blue, green, some color that seemed to glow in the dim of the ruin. And in those pairs of eyes, Vincent recalled, so faintly, a phantom of Lucrecia's eyes, smiling from somewhere down deep. And at once, his claw shot out and slammed against the side of Yazoo's cheek as his other hand ripped away the vise of Yazoo's grasp. Before Yazoo could get up, Vincent grabbed a fistful of the man's silver hair - Sephiroth's hair - and pushed the man's face against the cold floor. Vincent kept his fist tightened against the struggling Yazoo until his eyes grew wider, filled with a different light, until his eyes were his own again.

Vincent spoke, so harshly that his words split the air, carving the silence into jagged peices of themselves, "If you ever attack me again -"

"I've got nothing to live for." Tthe anger that Yazoo once used to hurl, like arrows, insults and swears at Vincent during the first day of his awakening disppeared without a trace this morning, his words now flowing from his mouth as sweetly and as calm as bells. Even though he hated to admit it, Vincent recalled Aeris' gentle teasing each time Yazoo spoke.

"Go on, kill me."

Vincent opened his mouth to speak but before he could, another voice rang out in the ruins, echoing against the walls, and dancing, as if electrifed, in the air. "MAN! YOU GUYS CAN'T DO NOTHIN' WITHOUT ME, HUH?"

Yuffie raised one hand in greeting, placing her duffel bag against the floor.

--

"NO!"

Vincent closed his eyes and sighed softly, letting one hand raise up to ruffle through the messy tangles of his windswept hair. In her hand, she held a glass jar, already half filled with fireflies, and the light that fell across her face was gentle, almost like sunlight. He leaned against the tree, crossing one leg over the other as his back hit the trunk squarely against his shoulders.

"The only reason why he hasn't killed me yet is because he can't move. Both of his legs are broken." Vincent tied his hair loosely at the nape of his neck with the rubber band Yuffie offered with an open palm. It must have been high noon outside the Forgotten City, but in the glow of the trees and the crumbling ruins, the wind was cold, and sent the leaves swirling in the crystaline air. There was never any sunlight that could penetrate the capony of trees, and the sunrises and sunsets he managed to glimpse through tiny openings of the forest were only pictures, reflections of the real thing. No actual light, warm and alive, ever leaked through the woven fingers of the silver, glowing trees or cast reflections across the surface of the shimmering lake. What Vincent missed most of all were the cries and calls of birds, everything was silent, silent, silent. That's why, watching Yuffie stomp and fall and stumble her way through the forest, causing branches to snap, rocks to dislodge from their settled places and leaves to crinkle under her foot, made Vincent want to smile.

"Yuffie, I tried giving him food today, and he almost choked me." Vincent kept his eyes focused on the ground between himself and Yuffie, knowing that eye contact would only launch another scream of protest. "Frankly to tell you the truth, I wish you've never -"

"BULLSHIT!" She reached for Vincent's hand and held out the jar of fireflies. In the glass jar, the fireflie's blue lights were soft, almost as if they were stars trapped in a transperant peice of sky. He took the jar from her as Yuffie turned around, placing her free hands behind her back, one hand grasping the wrist of the other. She walked down to the edge of the lake and back to where Vincent stood, mimicking the straight back and stiff posture of Vincent's own stride. She stopped in front of Vincent's face, peering into his eyes with a smile on her face.

"Why don't cha kill him? BANG!" Yuffie fired an imaginary gun into the air, laughing at the sudden disapproving frown that danced across Vincent's face, lowering his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth. "Just a few shots when he's sleeping and BANG! All done."

Vincent shook his head. The light that came from the shimmer of the fireflies made his eyes seem almost purple as he uncrossed his legs and stood from the tree. He turned to walk to the other end of the lake, where there was a giant rock that peered over the edge of the water. Vincent knew if he turned around, he would see Yuffie following closely behind him, her hands held stiffly at her sides, her face a teasing mimic of his usual stern face. They walked in silence, Yuffie only two footsteps behind him and Vincent holding onto that jar of fireflies tightly against his chest.

The water that lapped the sides of the rock sounded almost like the click of Vincent's gun against his hip as he walked. Effortlessly, he scrambled up the side of the rock and turned, for the first time, to see if Yuffie needed help. Instead, the slender girl jumped her way to the top, and sat herself right at the rock's edge. Vincent remained standing, glancing over the surface of the lake. In the distance, some ways away from the lake, was his ruin, where Vincent knew Yazoo remained awake, quiet with that goodamn paitent smile on his face. _"Go on, kill me_." Vincent remembered how soft Yazoo's words were, and mourned the fact that they were still made of iron, casted with truth. After Yuffie arrived, Vincent kicked Yazoo, hard against his ribs when the young man reached out once more to grab a hold of Vincent. And something in his voice, the way that Vincent ordered Yuffie out of the ruin, made her listen without complaint.

When she spoke, it startled Vincent so baddly that he almost dropped the jar of fireflies on the rock itself. "3 boxes of chocolate, orgami paper to fold cranes, a yo-yo that sang when you played with it." Yuffie named each thing off one of her fingers. "A boomerang that always flies back when you throw it, a stuffed Chocobo doll..." She turned her head to look at Vincent, her eyes asking the question.

"A jar of fireflies and a jar of colored sand from Costa del Sol." Vincent finished Yuffie's list, taking a seat on the rock's edge, an arm length's away from her.

"Ya know, Cid said ya ain't the type for Christmas. But Cloud knew, didn't he, that you'll come? That's why he told all of us to get you something. I was so cheap -- thinkin' fireflies would stay alive that long." Yuffie lifted one leg to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself. "Givin' you a jar of dead bugs." She laughed to herself before turning to smile at Vincent.

"Marlene almost cried tryin' to find you a present. Had no money either, spent it all on Barret - so she gave you used orgami paper and ran away, cryin'. Remember?"

"Yeah." Vincent looked back out towards the lake and said softly, "And then I told her we'll just use it again and again, folding cranes because that's what she loved best."

"And that's why ya can't kill him." Yuffie got up suddenly, the bottom of her boots striking against the rock, chipping against it almost like a gunshot. When Vincent looked up at her crouched figure, Yuffie leaned forward, so close that her face almost touched his own. "Cause I have some chocolates to give to him, and that jar of fireflies -- well it's gonna stay alive for a while, right?"

Vincent shifted his glare from Yuffie's bright smile and said, almost to himself, "I want to give Yazoo what I couldn't give Sephiroth - a chance to be different. Something else."

"I know, Vincent. Why'd else ya think I'm here? You're gonna need some help!"

"I want -" As Yuffie bent over to scoop the jar in her hands and turned to leave, Vincent reached out to grab her wrist with one smooth motion of his hand. He held her still, just for a moment. "I wanted Cloud to give him a second chance, too."

Her eyes meet his ruby ones and the heat that rose to her cheeks matched the same passion she felt after Reno kissed her, a week before. In all the years they known each other, Vincent only touched her like this; a hand to the wrist, a hand to her shoulder, hand clamped around her mouth to quiet her. Reno came to her again, later that night, smelling of cigarettes and open arms and Yuffie shook her hand, wrapping herself in the vise of her own hands. It was because - because the light in Vincent's eyes shone like something else, something she's never seen before. Because she wanted what Tifa had; a man, broken who found himself whole again in her grasp.

"It's going to be hard, Yuffie. Yazoo's so full of hate, of spite that all he sees is revenge."

"You were like that too." Vincent's hand slipped from her wrist and Yuffie turned, smiling to herself, hoping the blush that colored her cheeks rosy red was hidden in the musky shadows. "And you're startin' to - you know - get better."

Her feet touching the earth made no sound and suddenly, Yuffie was running as fast as she could to the ruin, the jar of fireflies clutched tight in her arms, feet pounding up and down as she ran around the lake's silver edge. "BESIDES! HE HAS TWO BROKEN LEGS! YA CAN'T CATCH NO NINJA LIKE THAT!" Her scream was one joyous sound that swelled in the air and shone like a star.

Vincent stared at his hands, one a claw that clicked menacingily against itself, the other a hand with a soft palm and nails streaked with dirt. _Some things, _Cloud laughed when he saw the pile of presents assembled in Vincent's lap, _you needed. The other stuff --- well, why don't you think of them as something ya borrowed? _Maybe with Yuffie's help, Vincent will get Yazoo out of that dark place, one so deep and so endless that the only thing that seemed real was pain. In the back of his mind, Vincent wondered if Yazoo would perhaps like a good book instead of that stupid, stupid trick yoyo Barret gave him.

Anything you borrowed, you have to return. That much Vincent knew.


	7. rules

**rules**

"Wait, what do you mean, you only brought -?"  
"A-huh! CANDY!"

He leaned over Yuffie's sitting figure, her hands busy searching through the opened duffle bag. Fistfuls of brightly colored, cellophane wrapped cadies fell, sounding like raindrops, onto the packed earth floor. Vincent tilted his head in curiosity as Yuffie withdrew a rather large cerulean colored tin, decorated with interweaving branches, a cascading waterfall and a bright orange and red phoenix. He had to smile when Yuffie held the tin with both hands up towards Vincent's lowered face, as if in offering.

"So, erm, dropped by Cid's place, Vincent and he said," She hunched up her shoulders and twisted one corner of her mouth, in a rather amusing mockery of Cid's imperfect posture. "A-hem - goddamn Vincent and his fuckin' vampire tendencies. WHAT THE HELL IS HIS PROBLEM! Tell him to drink some goddamn tea and tell him to stop his damn moping!"

Vincent's laugh, Yuffie thought, was startling only because it was so unrestricted, flowing from his mouth in a quiet cascade of joy, so contradictory to his dark exterior and his stern eyes. He took the tin from her, muttering something about not having a teapot as Yuffie lowered her glaze to the duffel bag in her lap. The spilled contents were brightly colored and sugar filled, and there was the stuffed trunk of the elephant Denzel wanted Vincent to have, peeking out from the edge of the bag. In such a dark and barely lit cave of a room, Yuffie could see even the shadows that followed the slightest movement of her hand. Her voice was too loud, her laugh too wild for so quiet of a place. Already slight tremors of nervousness assaulted her head and sank deep fangs into her beating heart. _I ain't gonna visit him, until he calls me and tells me to, ya hear? He went out there, that bastard, to be by himself._ Maybe Cid was right, Yuffie thought sadly as she shuffled through the piles and piles of candy and toys in her lap. Didn't Vincent tell her to leave the moment he saw her at the door?

Vincent turned his head in time to catch the unsteady glare of Yuffie's doubtful eyes. And he said, lowering his face down and away from her glaze to hide the smile on his face, "So,Yuffie, tell me you brought along a book." He had forgotten how bright her eyes could get, when she was happy. "YEAH! Red told me ya would want something. It's call erm - let's see... _Dark in the Mirror; A Play in Four Acts._ Red said it was pretty cool - lotsa killing and psychological babble. Stuff ya know all about."

"Yuffie?"  
"A-huh?"

"Is that toothpaste?"

Yuffie could only laugh at the bewildered look in Vincent's eyes, her whole self warming in the startled, almost impulsive smile that danced across his face. "Well, Cid also told me ya need something to keep 'em fangs nice and shiny."  
--

Vincent's eyes lost their warmth, their humor the moment Yuffie turned to Yazoo's still self. Her arms were loaded down with parcels of all shapes and sizes; some wrapped in the brilliant pink and blue striped paper of her favorite candy store in Wutai, some just covered in brown butcher paper, tied with string, books Red carefully selected from one of Cosmo Canyon's libraries and others were oddly wrapped in newspaper, decorated with stamps and lopsided crayon drawings. When she walked towards Yazoo, Vincent could feel the tension in the air, as heavy a sound as his footsteps as he trailed after Yuffie's cautious walk. One hand lay still across the top of his holstered gun as the other, his clawed hand, carried Denzel's elephant by its stuffed trunk.

On the table that moments before Yuffie and Vincent sat at, eating a makeshift lunch of the very last of the week old cheese and bread and two cans of lukewarm beer, there were piles of candy wrappers, a book lying open and facedown on the table and a trail of spilled tea leaves. The flowers that stood shadowing the crayoned drawing of Vincent from Marlene and Denzel were brown, their edges wilted and folding in upon themselves. Yuffie's shuriken lay leaning against the table's edge, along with her satchel filled with darts and throwing stars, its sides bursting to the stems with sharp points and dangerous possibilities.

When Yuffie stood near Yazoo, Vincent almost reached out to grab a hold of her elbow. Yazoo remain motionless, staring at her with those bright, almost star-like eyes and his mouth just a perfectly straight line etched across his pale face. The shadows in the cave grew longer and sharper as Yuffie drew closer and closer to Yazoo's lying body. And softly she said, "Aren't ya hungry?"

There was a glint in Yazoo's eyes as Yuffie crouched next to him, only an arm length or two away from Yazoo's lying body, half up in a sitting position, legs stone still and parallel to the ground. If he wanted to, Yazoo could have reached out and grasp her neck in the vise of his two hands, breaking her butterfly bone with steel fingers. Vincent glared at Yazoo, his eyes never wavering from the placid patience that emitted from Yazoo's blank smile, the toy elephant gently slapping against Vincent's thigh.

And then the tower of packages fell from Yuffie's hands, scattering across the floor. One particularly heavy package flung itself clear across the ruin, smacking against the wall with a deafening slam. Yuffie nervously giggled, pressing one hand against the back of her neck in embarrassment as she tried to balance herself on the balls of her heels.

"It's all good stuff. Candy and junk food – I got some tea somewheres." Yuffie held out one hand as the other continued to rub the back of her neck. She could feel an itch coming on; she always broke into a compulsive rash whenever she was nervous and right now, her throat constricted because of the effort it took for her to even speak. "Goddamn Vincent and thinkin' ya can just get healed off of good intentions alone."

Her laugh was pure, undaunted by the darkness that claimed almost every corner of the ruin and the red, menacingly glare of Vincent's eyes.

"Now, whatcha want to eat?"

He kept his eyes lowered to the ground, and the smile that etched itself across his face, like a carved fixture upon a statue, seem to deepen just a bit. When he moved, strands of his shoulder length hair followed the sway of his lowering head and his body shook, just a little.

"There's nothing you can give me –" His voice was soft, words that barely had time to echo in the air before one hand thrust out, his fingers a claw that seemed to search for the soft flesh of Yuffie's neck – or so Vincent thought. Yuffie's face was still beaming at Yazoo, her hands offering a tiny box of brightly wrapped chocolates when Vincent grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her up off her feet and behind him. He threw the elephant straight at Yazoo's face, with such a force that the stuffed animal slapped Yazoo's cheek with a sound that matched Yuffie crashing against the table, overturning the vase of wilted flowers and sending her shuriken skimming and bouncing off the floor.

"- that I'll ever want." Yazoo finished speaking, picking up the elephant with one hand by the fat flap of the huge ear. He tossed it lightly at Vincent's feet and looked up to smile benignly at Vincent's stoic face. "I'll rather not eat any of it."

"Yazoo–" The name, erupting from Vincent's mouth seemed to inflate and swell as Yazoo was lifted bodily from his blankets with the grasp of Vincent's clawed hands. Vincent shook Yazoo once, twice as Yuffie struggled to regain her balance, holding onto the edge of the table to steady herself. "-Whatever it is you have, keep it between me and you."

"Are you all right, Yuffie?" Vincent just barely glanced over his shoulder at Yuffie, who suddenly stomped her feet in disgust, "VINCENT! WHAT THE F-?" But her words were lost as Yazoo spoke once more, "I only wanted to touch her and say, thank you."

"No." Vincent tightened his hold around Yazoo's collar, the fabric of Yazoo's shirt bunching up in his fist. "No, you didn't."

Yuffie blinked at the sight of the twin pools of blood that dripped from Yazoo's legs, two crescents of crimson red that slowly blossomed into full moons. The sudden tightening of Yazoo's lips was a sign, as clear as day, of the pain he was feeling, suspended in mid-air by the awful strength of a cold, deathly patient Vincent.

And then Yazoo was lowered, gently on the floor, his broken, bleeding legs touching the cold, packed earth lightly though Vincent's hands never slipped from Yazoo's collar. "Yuffie, can you get me my blanket? It appears that Yazoo needs more bandages." Something in his voice was sickening to hear; it was the same guarded voice that Vincent used to have whenever he spoke, that has long since given way to a voice that was usually filled with good-natured humor and gentleness.

"Can I help?" Yuffie walked slowly towards the place where Vincent stood over Yazoo's sprawled self, his hands still clutching at the fabric at the base of Yazoo's throat. It was only when Yuffie touched Vincent's arm, her fingers gently tugging at the base of his elbow that Vincent turned his glaze to look at her. And he saw, in Yuffie's wide eyes, a plead and a reprimand. His fingers uncurled, his whole face relaxed and slowly, Vincent let Yazoo go. He withdrew both of his hands and placed them quietly in his lap as Yuffie leaned forward, on the very edge of her curled toes. Her smile was genuine, warm as she picked Denzel's elephant and waved it in front of Yazoo's face.

"That kid – he said give it to Vincent, cause it looks just like him. Don't know how he figured that one out."

She hugged the elephant to her chest as she titled her head, her eyes already beaming. "So, whatcha like to eat?"  
--

He was quiet all through dinner, though he did rush to put out the accidental fire Yuffie set off on the edge of her own sweater sleeve. When Yuffie bent over Yazoo, tearing his blanket into long strips with her teeth and her vicious grip, he kept his face buried in the book Red gave him. But his ears, his ears were turned on and his hands shook, waiting for the slightest motion of Yazoo – a raised fist or a sudden clutching of his hand – to give him reason enough to jump up from the corner of the ruin and fling himself between Yuffie and Yazoo's quiet, almost statue like lying figure. He heard Yuffie grasp at the sight of Yazoo's torn, gashed legs and kept quiet when Yuffie offered Yazoo a plate of bread and chocolates, some of the wrappers flashing bright shadows over Yazoo's lowered face.

He didn't speak when Yazoo raised one hand and brushed back one of Yuffie's bangs. It was only when Yazoo spoke, saying softly, "Why don't you hand me a knife as well?" that Vincent rose from the corner of the ruin he sat in, reading by the light that streamed from the slightly ajar door, and firmly grabbed Yuffie and guided her out of the ruin. Regardless of all her protests, her stomping and the wave after wave of her hands, Vincent didn't let her go until they were standing at the edge of the lake.

"Sit." Vincent mentioned to a fallen tree log, almost completely covered with metallic colored moss. And when Yuffie remained standing, her hands crossed over her chest and face turned from his, Vincent sighed deeply, lifting one of his long bangs with the effort of his breath. "Yuffie, listen –"

"NO YOU LISTEN!" She pounced on him then, slamming both of her fist against his chest. His eyes watched her in surprise, though he kept his arms open, not fighting off Yuffie's rampant attacks, "DON'T YOU FEED ME THAT BULLSHIT ABOUT SECOND CHANCES AND THEN TREAT HIM LIKE A GODDAMN ANIMAL!"

"You and Cloud should know better than anyone else –" Vincent wrapped both of his hands tightly against the base of Yuffie's left wrist, catching her off guard with the tenderness of his touch. Even the cold touch of his claw against the soft of her palm seemed comfortingly almost; Yuffie suddenly stopped moving, her face watching Vincent's own. "I will not tolerate senseless hate. Look at where it got me, Yuffie."

His face was pressed close to her's; she could almost taste the scent of his breath, a mixture of sweet beer, the hearth and home of bread and the slight, slight whiff of the toothpaste that Yuffie was positive Cid told her to give to him. Up close, his skin was paler then she thought possible, something reflecting moon and still water both and his eyes were not just crimson, but flecked with tiny fragments of brown and gold. Yuffie trembled; his face was just inches from her own. She could see even the dark of his lashes, casting shadows upon his cheeks.

"Why didn't you fight back? Why did you let Yazoo touch you, talk to you like that?"  
"I thought Vincent, you won't be having any senseless hate."

Yuffie wanted to hold Vincent there, to feel his body pressed against her, as close as his face that hovered just inches away from her own. It was a desire that almost took her breath away and she could already feel the heat rise to her cheeks.

"Don't talk big things, Vincent, if ya just going to, you know, go back on them."

Vincent let one hand drift to her shoulder, brushing past her face as he did so and gently, quietly walked back, letting a gap as wide as an outstretched arm separate them. "Okay."

"Okay what?" Yuffie's breath rose in what could only be an acute and an intense mix of desire and disappointment. His hand still held onto her shoulders, his fingers perhaps digging a bit too deeply into her sweater.

"We'll do it your way – by your rules."  
--

In the middle of a deep, leaden sleep, Yazoo suddenly jerked himself awake. As always, Vincent sat by the jagged opening by the far wall, which served as a door that gave enough light to read by. His eyes meet Yazoo's briefly and lowered back to his book. A few inches from Vincent was that girl; a hot metallic taste already rose to his mouth as he shifted his eyes to glance at her curled up figure, hugging tight the elephant and wrapped in one of Vincent's red cloaks.

Yazoo tried to shift his weight from one shoulder to another, but found that just moving an inch or so to the left sent a vast, deep plunge of pain circulating throughout his legs, from the tip of his toes up. He lifted up a piece of paper that the girl placed next to his plate of bread and chocolate and some slices of cheese, her bright laugh already a ghost to his ears. By the same light that Vincent read his book, Yazoo began to read.  
--

**Rules for general non-assholeness along with rules for this house!**

**1. You WILL be forced against your will to eat. So do yourself a favor and eat.  
2. Every week, you're coming with us. Don't know where we're going but it'll be fun.  
3. You have two broken legs, and I'm the world's greatest ninja. Don't mess with me again, I'll have you eating your toes in no time!  
4. And if it gets really, really bad, I'm leaving and then you're stuck with VINCENT!  
--**

He looked up when Yazoo called him by name. "Vincent." It sounded like a question the way he said it. Vincent lowered the book to his lap and waited for Yazoo to finish speaking.

"Can – can you get me something to drink?"


	8. 1000 things

**1000 things**

_- Okay, so it's like this, right? We each take a card, and that becomes our number. Then we shuffle the cards, and take turns drawing them out. Understand so far, ya guys?  
- And then we drink if our card comes up?  
- No, when our NUMBER shows up. Ya haven't played much drinking games, have ya?_

_- As long as no one gets carried away, fine.  
- Um, Yuffie, does this game have a point?  
- Good question. Does it?_

_- YA BOTH SHUT YER TRAPS! WHAT DID I TEACH YOU YESTERDAY?_

_- That he's part vampire, part doom-and-gloom and completely cheap?  
- You told him that?  
- I TOLD YOU THAT NOT EVERYTHING HAS A POINT! YOU JUST DO IT FOR FUN!  
_

_- What a strange concept_

_- Yuffie, your logic has so many flaws in it, I don't know where to begin. First off, I told you numerous times not to mention –  
- JUST DRINK YOUR GODDAMN BEER!  
- And I see you've spent entirely too much time with Cid lately.  
--_

In the chill of early morning, Vincent untangled himself from the folds of his torn blanket and stretched both hands over his head, yawning as he did so. As he struggled to lift his head from his makeshift pillow, he felt a slight weight on his chest. Glancing down, Vincent saw Yuffie's hand laid lightly across his body, her fingers slowly curling and uncurling in rhythm to the beat of her breathing. He sighed softly, and gently lifted her hand from his body with the slightest of touches.

She turned her back to him and snuggled even deeper in her sleep, hugging close Denzel's elephant. Vincent watched her for a moment, rubbing the smallest traces of sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. He slowly got up from the ground, stretching his arms high over his head and yawned once again.

She fell asleep before he did, curled around that stuffed animal and still in mid-laugh. There was a pile of plates next to her head, the leftovers of last night's dinner and cans of beer that she swore they needed to drink before they became too warm. Vincent smiled, remembering Yuffie's delight at his approval of a drinking game, with the promise that no one gets seriously drunk. It still amazed him at how so small a woman could drink so much.

He got up, trying to crack and stretch out every sore part of his body. It wasn't planned for them to sleep so randomly last night, curled like half moons around Yazoo's bed. Vincent bent over, picking up the book he used as a pillow and glanced at Yazoo's face. Sleeping like that with every muscle in Yazoo's face relaxed and utterly at ease made Vincent recall the faces of Marlene and Denzel. It was the same childish peace, the same contentment with the world that settled across the contours of Yazoo's face. Yuffie, though Vincent couldn't see her from where he stood, had that same peace etched across her face, like a jewel.

Vincent smiled and walked over to the table. There was no more bread, the cheese was growing rancid and the apples that were left were spotted with brown spots, some as large as his thumbprint. Soon, they would need to go into town to buy food. It's been over two weeks since Yuffie came to the ruin, sprouting nonsense about her rules, his incompetence, Yazoo's buried inner child and the sorry fact that women, as always, were needed to make things right.

Vincent surveyed the last of the apples and picking the less blemished, bit into it. The apple was crisp and Vincent marveled at how something so rancid-looking could taste so good. The day would dawn cold, Vincent knew by the chill that hung over the ruin and wrapped himself up in his cape, buckling high the straps past his chin.

He took another bite of the apple as he walked out of the ruin, breathing deep the scent of early fall. Walking to the side of the ruin, Vincent picked up an empty bucket. Time to fetch water to reapply Yazoo's bandages and build a fire to heat some water for washing – Vincent savored the early morning rituals as well as the nightly ones.

The bucket slapped against his thigh as he climbed through fallen tree trunks and a rocky slope, trying to keep as best he could, to the dirt path that lead from the ruin to the fresh water spring, completely immersed in his thoughts.

There was redemption in the world, Vincent thought, and it could be found in the gentleness of Yazoo's voice as he talked to Yuffie, asking her everything from the name of her shuriken to how to play poker, what Wutai was like and how come she always had to toast her bread before she ate it. In Yazoo's voice was a desire to know the 1000 things that he always wanted to know, the 1000 things he once thought couldn't exist.  
--

There was something different about him as he approached the spring, one hand nervously tapping against his right thigh. His face was streaked with the dirt of long roads and his eyes seemed tired. But when he smiled, it was genuine, a kind gesture that overshadowed even the weariness that clung to his body, smelling of fatigue.

Vincent slowly turned to face Cloud, his eyes quickly scanning up and down Cloud's body. There was a bandage, slightly bloody, wrapped around Cloud's left wrist and his lips were scarred, bitten through. But Cloud's smile never wavered as Vincent approached him, the full bucket left behind on the spring's mossy banks.

"Cloud." Whenever he stood next to Cloud, Vincent was always slightly taken back at how short Cloud really was. He had to look down to meet Cloud's eyes and that always made Vincent slightly uncomfortable. Cloud was his equal; it was Cloud, Vincent knew, that saw the world eye to eye, sapphire blue to crimson red.

Cloud lowered the bag he kept slung across his left shoulder and took a step forward, his footing unsure against the uneven ground. Looking off into the distance, above Vincent's shoulder, Cloud's eyes seemed to shiver and shift in response to the filtering light and the reflection of the spring, glimmering green.

"I – I should have came sooner." Vincent opened his mouth to respond when Cloud spoke again, his words rushed and shifting in tone and voice. His words were disjointed, different from the calm serenity that shown in his eyes. "But – I couldn't – you know – it-it-it was because…."

Cloud turned his head to peer at the metallic trees, the way the white light never faded or dimmed and how the sun never shone through the interweaving canopy of tree leaves. And in Cloud's eyes, Vincent saw the shimmer of chrome and the ghost of motorcycle fuel drifting from every corner, some from the tree roots themselves.

"We fought here – there was gunfire and the children –"

Cloud then stared in Vincent's eyes, his face holding a resolve that seemed almost iron-like in its steadiness. "I'll meet him – but not here."

"Not where – the memories are so close."

Vincent turned to the bucket that sat by the spring's banks, his feet making not a trace of sound even though his stride was long and dragged across the forest's floor. "You should go back where Tifa's waiting." Vincent bent slightly over to lift the bucket and hoist it on his right shoulder. "Where Denzel is."

But when Vincent turned to look at Cloud, he was gone – leaving behind only the heavy canvas bag, slightly tipping to one side. From where Vincent stood, he could see the bag was overflowing with oranges, apples, a round of cheese that looked like a full moon.

"Thank you, Cloud."  
--

"OH YAY! Sausages! They look so good!" Yuffie nearly ripped the bag from Vincent's hands, causing the bucket he carried on one shoulder to sway and send a river over its wooden edge. Vincent caught the bucket before it could fall completely to the floor, and gently lowered it to the ground with a soft thump. He glanced up in time to see Yuffie and Yazoo opening up the bag and pulling out all the good things Cloud brought them; besides the fruit and the meat, Cloud packed braided breads, a jar of butter, jams and a can of coffee. As Yuffie continued to rummaged through the bag, Yazoo couldn't help but open a jar of cherry red jam and eat it by the spoonful.

"What's this called, Yuffie?"  
"Jam – you eat it on bread or you know – like that!"

"And what's that?"  
"Coffee, had you ever had coffee before?"  
"I think so – I'm not sure."

"OH MAN! VINCENT THIS IS AWESOME."

Both Yuffie and Yazoo turned to grin at Vincent, who sat quietly in the corner, already brushing out his long hair and tying it tightly at the nape of his neck. "I just want you guys to know –" Vincent stood up, gathering the pile of dirty clothes that sat near the table in the folds of his two arms, "That's not nearly enough for us."

Vincent slipped his feet into his worn, black slippers and walked out of the door, calling out over his shoulder, "We might be headed to town soon."  
--

Her hand felt soft against his shoulder. Leaving one of his dirty shirts to float like a ghost in the lake, Vincent turned to look up into Yuffie's smiling face.

"So, I'm guessing Cloud stopped by, huh?"  
"How'd you figure?"

Yuffie twirled as she turned from the lake's edge and jumped onto one of the jagged rocks, careful not to disturb the cleaned clothes Vincent laid there to dry. She crouched, her heels nearly sinking into the back of her thighs as she watched Vincent continue with the wash.

"Cause if it was Cid, the old man'll be inside, cursing and swearing and asking if Yazoo's a girl, that's why." Yuffie stretched her arms high over her head and grinned again.

"Ya know, I wanted to get out of this hellhole for a while. It's crampin' my style, Vincent!" Without turning around, Vincent could almost see the joy that radiated from her grin, like a flower opening to the sun. He continued to wash, scrubbing clean the pillows, the blankets, Yazoo's shirts and his own, Yuffie's clothing as they started to talk – about where they should go, how to carry Yazoo without hurting his semi-healed legs, and most importantly, who should call Cloud to tell him when they leave.

As they walked back to the ruin, Yuffie carrying the now dry clothes in her arms, Vincent kept one hand against the small of her back, to make sure she wouldn't trip over the tree trunks, to guide her through the forest's mazes to the tiny cave, the dilapidated ruin that he called home where Yazoo sat waiting, one spoon still buried in the crimson sea of jam, his face still marveling at the sweetness of it all.

_Author's notes: Okay you guys, this might be the last chapter update for a while – I'm headed to work! I'm teaching English at a Providence summer school and since my laptop is busted, I won't have the chance to update as frequently as I did. Thank you so much for all the reviews…. It gives me the fuel I need to write! Gah, I love this story more than I can say. I will most definitely update this story as soon as I can --- the next chapter's going to be a long, juicy one, I promise! _


	9. of airships and blood relations

**of airships and blood relations**

It was his voice that made Yazoo narrow his eyes in suspicion and cross his arms, his hands wrapping tight around the slim sides of his body as if in a vise. Full of piss and vinegar, Vincent fondly described it. That was exactly how he spoke, a rough voice that cut the silence of the ruin followed by a gruff laugh, unhinged and freewheeling.

He sat at the head of the table, demanding that Yuffie bring him beer instead of "pussy tea" while smoking cigarette after cigarette, crushing the lit ends against the wood. What puzzled Yazoo even more was how friendly Vincent responded to the man's vulgarity, smiling at every uttered swear and spoken obscenity. Yazoo watched them talk, swirls of grey smoke swirling high over their heads like thin, fading halos.

"Can you believe that guy?" Yazoo looked up in time to a hand outstretched and offering a bit of bread, smeared heavily with a thick carpet of jam. Taking the bread gratefully, Yazoo moved aside slightly to make room for Yuffie to sit down. With a mighty sigh that lifted the curtain of bangs framing her face, Yuffie hugged her knees to her chest and tilted her head to look kindly at Yazoo, who already took a deep bite of his bread. "Walkin' in here and sproutin' shit bout how stupid Vincent is. Though ya know, I AM glad the old man's here."

"Mft?" Yuffie giggled as Yazoo hurriedly swallowed down his bite of toast. He took a gulp of cleansing air, only to get a mouthful of tobacco smoke and shook his head. "Why?" Yazoo asked again, his one worded question suddenly booming around the abrupt silence of the ruin.

Cid turned to glance at Yazoo, cocking one eyebrow in a quizzical manner while his mouth was still a jagged grin, full of mockery. Vincent smiled, one cheek resting against his left palm and his other hand tracing small circles on top of the table. Yazoo glanced back down at his hands, suddenly very interested in the piece of bread and the way the jam seemed to glow.

"You sure that's one's not a girl, Vincent? Ya could have fooled me," Cid took a deep drag of his cigarette and exhaled a thick plume of smoke into the air, "Fuck, I'm almost positive he's got bigger titties than Yuffie."

"WHAT THE--!" Yuffie scrambled to her feet as Cid let out another hoarse laugh, one that seemed to sprout deep from his belly. "WHATCHA SAY, OLD FART!"

Yazoo lifted his piece of toast high over his head to aim directly at Cid's laughing, teasing face when Cid let out another deep laugh, "Oh look at the pansy, defending his woman."

"I AM NOT HIS WOMAN ASSHOLE!" Yuffie pointed at Cid, stamping her foot in anger. "VINCENT! WHY THE HELL YOU INVITED THIS JERK ANYWAY!"  
"And look at her now, tryin' to win poor ole Vinnie's heart. Would have figured; liking men who look like women."  
"VINCENT! I DEMAND YOU THROW THE OLD FART OUT!"

Yazoo opened his mouth to say something else, when Vincent suddenly stood up, gathering the empty teacups with a gentle hand. His hair, free from its usual knot at the nape of his neck, was loose and hung around his face in an unruly mess. He walked past Yuffie, touching her wrist lightly with the back of his free hand, and that was enough for her to lowered her hand and stare bashfully at the ground. Vincent smiled at Yazoo as he bent over his bed, gathering the empty, used dishes and cups that stood nearby.

"Have you ever been on an airship before, Yazoo?"  
"No. We – I always rode motorcycles whenever I needed to get somewhere."

Cid rocked back on his heels in laughter as Yuffie's head snapped back up, sticking out her tongue in a clear display of hatred. "Aw, Yuffie, don't be givin' me a hard time. I ain't the one who made you airsick, girlie."

"Airsick?" Yazoo stared after Vincent as he walked away, hands carefully holding onto each dish and glass within the grasp of his long fingers and graceful hands. "I was thinking, Yazoo, that perhaps a real doctor should see about your legs."--

"---If that old man thinks I'm goin' to behave myself on his goddamn Sierra, he's got another thing comin' to him, stupid old –" Yazoo half listened to Yuffie's complaints as he laid fully stretched across the ruin's floor, his hands crisscrossed underneath his head. Yuffie laid next to him, hugging tight the stuffed elephant that became over the few weeks, almost attached to her arms. She was fiercely eating through a bar of chocolate, the crinkle of the foil wrapper sounding like tiny explosions.

As she continued to talk, Yazoo thought back to this morning where he suddenly rouse himself from sleep, the pain of his legs suddenly flaring. And when he turned his face, searching for Vincent or Yuffie, he saw the two of them still sitting at the table where he last saw them, before he drifted off to sleep hours ago. Vincent was resting his head against the table, obviously asleep. Yazoo wanted to call out a greeting to Yuffie but before he could, the girl held out one hand and gently brushed aside one of Vincent's long bangs from his face. There was some sort of tenderness, Yazoo could see, from that small gesture alone and there was something else that made Yazoo's mouth close and his words were left unspoken.

Thinking about that morning now, Yazoo turned to Yuffie and reached over to break off a piece of the chocolate for himself. "I don't understand what the f-"  
"Yuffie?"  
"Hm?"  
"Are you and Vincent – related?"  
"ME RELATED TO THAT CREEPY GUY? AS IF!" And then her voice grew softer, trailing to a light, gentle caress as she spoke once more, "Why'd you ask?"

"Just wondering." Yazoo trailed to silence, knowing that Yuffie won't speak again until her voice could be steady and free of the sudden caught up quality of her just uttered words. The chocolate flooded Yazoo's mouth with sweetness, his brain reeling with the sudden explosion of it all. He didn't know why he asked a question he already knew the answer to or why his face suddenly burned with an embarrassed fire.

"Yuffie?"  
"What now?"

"It's just that – you know, I'm – it's just the way you guys.. care for each other." Yazoo cleared his throat suddenly, "It reminds me of – of my brothers."

Except we weren't in love with each other, Yazoo finished, silently in his head as Yuffie suddenly flared back into action, lecturing him about the difference between friends and blood relations and how utterly stupid Yazoo was.

Yazoo closed his eyes, listening to the rise and fall of Yuffie's voice and wish that perhaps one day soon, someone who push aside his hair while asleep, with those eyes that kept staring and staring at him, as if waiting for an answer.

_Author's Notes: Remembered when I promised a long juicy chapter? Well this wasn't it. In fact, consider it a mini-chapter. I just needed to write something on my one day off, and also, the potential for future interactions between Cid and Yazoo is pretty awesome. Awww… I really appreciate all the comments. They make me so very happy._


	10. journey

**journey**

His face was contorted against the hard dirt, one hand twisted and clawing as if looking for a way out. High above his head, the moon shone, looking like a watchful eye, staring at his sin as it manifested through his convulsing body.

Something tore, perhaps it was his black shirt as his shoulders pushed together, converging upon one massive eruption of pain. His body shook and whatever hair wasn't streaked with the brown earth was plastered against his face with sweat. If he could see his eyes in the silver reflection of the moon, he would have seen the pain that pulsed from deep inside.

And his mouth opened.

And it closed, opened again.

"Brother-"

It was a word to fend off the pain and the bitterness of the hard edges of night. As soon as the word danced from his half opened lips, there was a hot flash against his eyes and suddenly, he fell into a darkness that seemed to wrap heavy arms around him, trying to drag him to a depth he always feared.  
--

Her father told her to watch out for werewolves. Of all the legends she ever heard this one was by far the scariest one. Her name was Lila, and her hair was a dark mane of raven black and the boys used to say she was a witch. It was fine by her – the boys at school and the ones who stood by the corner called her friends far worse; hard names that clung to their stomachs as they walked and placed a heavy weight upon their heads so that all they could do was stare at the ground. Not Lila. She ran as quickly and as freely as the boys, and at twelve, her father was already worried about the sudden tightness of her shirts, the enormous glimmer of her eyes and the way the boys stared after her as she walked, looking like wolves.

These were the werewolves Lila's father told her about; boys who turned into animals at the suggestion of a seductive moon. Her father used to lock Lila at home each night, before he went to work at a bar in a town called Scar, only a few miles from their country village.

Lila had a secret, like all little girls do. When her father left for Scar, Lila's bare feet would sound like drums as she raced down the staircase, tossing aside her nightgown and pulling on a worn flowered dress. She would braid her hair into one long plait and wound it around and around her head, slipping on sandals as she went. At night, the village looked like a fairytale.

Carrying her father's gas lantern in the crook of her left arm, Lila would walk among the trees that hugged the edge of the village and would always giggle at the thought of her father, who knew nothing.

She would walk about a mile to a tiny clearing in the woods and there was her secret. It was etched in stone and steel and smelled like soil, drenched with rain that fell months and months ago.

It was nothing more but a sword that was plunged deep into the earth and stood there, catching off the reflections of the moon and the lantern, like a proud solider. Lila would run her hands lovingly up and down the hilt of the sword and dream of princes, witches, dragons and all the stories she wanted to be real.

But tonight, as Lila approached the sword, there was a shadow already there, leaning on one knee and staring up and up at the silver moon.

Lila grasped, and the lantern fell to the ground. The shadow rose and in the moonlight, Lila saw sapphire eyes.

"Don't be scared." The shadow became a man dressed in black. Lila never saw eyes that glowed that bright without the help of the moon.

"You – you shouldn't be out here with no one around." The man then smiled and Lila saw that he was no older than her own brother, Lucas, away at university. Her voice was shaky as she answered in reply, "Www—why are you here?"

"I'm waiting-" The man laughed and gently lowered his duffle bag. "-for a friend."  
--

The sight of the earth below him, the green of forest and the blue of snaking rivers made his eyes glisten each time he peered down, down past the windows. And if he lifted his head, he could see blue sky, endless blue dotted with white clouds and tiny shadows of birds against the bright sun. Even now, three days riding this airship that seemed too immense for just three passengers and a ten person crew, Yazoo still marveled at the filtered view of the sunrise each morning, the pink and gold and orange as bright as jewels falling across his blanket.

His crutches hit squarely against the metal walkway that connected the galley to the command room, a click and clack that bounced off all corners of the cargo hold, sounding like gunshots. Yazoo managed a wave to one of the crew members, a brightly smiling girl with wave upon wave of sandy red hair, before he opened the door to the command room.

"YAZOO!" He almost fell against the wall, his hands slipping from the metal handles of his crutches as Yuffie grabbed his shoulders, screaming all the while.

"Yazoo! Tell them! TELL THEM YOU CAN'T STAND THIS SHIP!"

Yazoo's eyes glistened with warmth as his mouth lifted in a small smile. "But Yuffie, I love it here." He titled his head, letting long strands of his white hair strike against his pale skin. His smile widen. "Perhaps maybe you shouldn't eat so much. It'll stop your stomach aches."

Yuffie let her hands fall from his shoulders and stomped her foot. "What the hell! I LIKED YOU BETTER WHEN YOU WERE –" She suddenly bent over, holding onto her stomach. "Yuffie!" Yazoo stood straighter, his back one continuous line, as he tightened his hold on his crutches. He hobbled closer to Yuffie, one hand already out to comfort her when a voice boomed overhead.

"DON'T BE SHOWING HER ANY FAVORS! THAT GIRL'LL ROB YER ASS BLIND IF YOU LET HER!"

"Why don't you just keep your attention to minding this ship!" snarled Yazoo, his head snapping up to catch a glimpse of Cid's grinning face, his lit cigarette making a halo of smoke around his head.

"Yeah! This piece of shit is going to drop right out of the sky, old man!" Yuffie leaned against Yazoo's offered arm and shook her fist up at Cid who stood leading against the balcony's railing.

"Oh really? Then little Miss tight-ass, get the FUCK OFF MY SHIP!"  
"I WOULD IF YOU LANDED THIS SHIT SOMEWHERE CLOSE TO A TOWN!"

A slight peal of laughter drifted from the end of the hallway and both Yazoo and Yuffie turned to see Vincent leaning against the handrail, the bottom half of his face buried in a well worn book. Yuffie turned to Vincent, her face asking the question even before her mouth opened. He slowly shook his head, a gesture that was at once firm but also gentle, as soft as the light that hit his crimson eyes.

"It's alright." Vincent looked down at his book, his hand already poised to turn the page. "We'll be there in a little while."

Cid blew a thick flume of smoke around Yuffie's face, the curls of gray fading into thin air as he let out another gruff laugh, "Don't think you're going to be in this ship and not listen to anyone, Princess. You ain't got me wrapped around yer finger like Zoo-boy over there."

"For the last time, it's YAZOO!"  
--

In all his time flying on first the Highwind and then the Seirra, he was never quite used to the showers. Cid once explained it to him; something about the elevation of the air and the pressure of the water tanks. Whatever it was, taking a shower on the airship meant having blast after blast of high pressure water raining down on you, hitting your skin with the same force of falling hail.

He kept one hand on the shower's faucet, his lips opening wide to catch droplets of cold water in his mouth. He could hear the roar of the engine and the screams and whoops of Cid's crew even with the deafening cascade of the shower. It was funny, Vincent mused as he turned off the water and shook his wet hair from his shoulders, how comforting the airship could be.

Vincent stepped out of the shower stall, wrapping a towel tightly around his waist as he gathered the long strands of his dripping hair with his one good hand. He wrung free the last of the excess water and slipped his wet feet into a pair of sandals that stood right next to his folded clothes.

There was a mirror hanging above the rust rimmed sink and into this Vincent peered, locks of his black hair plastered against his face. His eyes seemed blood red in the harsh fluorescent glow of the bathroom's single bulb and his claw, wet from the shower, glistened menacingly. It's been so long, he thought as he gently touched his claw to the soft of his cheek.

Perhaps it's faded away.

Standing there, half naked, Vincent grabbed a hold of the sink, claw and hand gripping as tight as he could and thought about death. The way it would smell, the way it would taste. Perhaps it'll look like Sephiroth's face – that undeniable fear as Cloud's blade plunged deep into his chest. Vincent thought death would be golden, or glistening green, like the rain that fell as Kadaj disappeared into nothing, into the air itself.

Death wouldn't be his release. Vincent could feel his shoulders suddenly pushing far apart, the sound of his skin stretching and he started to grasp in rhythm to the pain that danced across his body. In the tiny square mirror, Vincent saw the moment his skin burst and wings of leather ripped through his shoulders. Edged in claws and protruding veins, the wings beat against his bare back and lifted his hair with their mechanical flapping. Vincent's head lowered in defeat as sweat beaded against his forehead. The pain flared like a fire throughout his body, and when he opened his mouth to scream, he vomited blood, staining the rusted sink bright red.

It was his own goddamn fault. Nice try, Vincent thought, thinking a few good days could take all the hurt away.

The door to the bathroom opened and Vincent's head snapped up in response. She stood by the door, one hand curled around the handle of a bright yellow bucket. He could see bottles of shampoo and soap piled high, almost overflowing from the rim of the bucket. She held a washcloth embroidered with a smiling cactus and her toothbrush in her other hand.

His wings beat against the silence of the bathroom and Vincent slowly lifted one hand to wipe away the trail of blood that dripped from a corner of his mouth. He wanted to say something and the light from the bathroom's naked bulb glared like a harsh sun. His mouth opened again when Yuffie closed the door firmly behind her.

Her bare feet made no sound against the tiled bathroom floor and Vincent backed himself away from the sink and against the far wall. She walked closer to him and somewhere overhead, the echo of Yazoo's and Cid's voices rising and falling in yet another argument was heard. The wings scratched against the tiled walls and flapped harder and harder in response to the rise of his temper and agitation. His wings flapping against the stale air raised a tiny windstorm that blew her bangs off her face, leaving only her eyes staring intently at his half naked, shaking body.

"Get out." His voice was a shattered fragment of its usual melodic tone, and his mouth snapped, as if to bite her hand. "OUT!" His scream was a roar, a creature that swelled in the enclosure of the bathroom and his claw sliced through the silence as it reached out towards her approaching self.

"Vincent-" Yuffie held up the washcloth, her heart beating against her throat. She tried to remember what his eyes really looked like, soft crimson and ruby and not the red glare of a demon. The wings that beat themselves crazy against his bare back could be angel wings if Yuffie stared hard enough. "-you're bleeding."

The soft of the washcloth against the hard metal of his claw seemed to calm his rage and slowly Vincent collapsed against the cool of the bathroom's floor. His wings, as suddenly as they burst from his shoulders, retracted and the pain in his body subsided. He crossed his ankles together and leaned against his knees.

"I said, you're bleeding." The bucket clanged to the floor, sending loose the shampoo bottles and soap dishes to all corners of the bathroom as Yuffie lowered to her knees near Vincent's collapsed self. When his mouth open to vomit up more blood, Yuffie firmly held her washcloth to his mouth, catching every ruby drop.

His body shook, was still for a moment and shook again as the loose tiles on the floor and on the wall rattled. Her hand against the nape of his neck was warm and Vincent vomited more and more blood, until the washcloth was stained through and trails of blood dripped from her fingers.

The moment he could speak, Vincent said softly, "I'm –"

His one good hand gently lifted Yuffie's hand from his neck. Her fingers were soft, unlined and like a child's. Vincent threaded his fingers through her own and shakily tried to stand up. Vincent glanced at a distant spot, over Yuffie's shoulders and away from her knowing eyes. His legs almost buckled underneath him and he felt a drain upon his body so profound that his vision blurred. He gently helped Yuffie to her feet.

"I'm sorry."

And then Yuffie laughed, throwing the dirty washcloth into the sink. Still holding tightly onto Vincent's hand, she turned on the water, as hot as it could go and watched as Vincent's blood swam in circles before sinking into the rusted drain. She ran her dirty hand under the water, her face not flinching at the intensity of the water's heat. And she said, laughingly over her shoulder, "Vincent, put on yer goddamn towel and be decent!"

"What?" Vincent turned to glance over his shoulder and sure enough, the large navy towel he thought he securely tucked around his waist laid in a crumpled heap by the shower's door. "Aw shit!" Vincent let go of Yuffie's hand and covered himself, turning this way and that as he tried to grab his towel without further exposing more parts of his body.

Yuffie kept her eyes staring intently at the swirling water in the sink as her cheeks flared and blushed. She laughed, trying to shake free of the sudden rush of fear and excitement that rose swiftly to her throat. He's no monster, Yuffie thought as she rubbed rather vigorously at her hands, and he's no angel either.

She felt his hand against her elbow, a gentle touch that made her look up and up at his face. There was still the faded trail of blood that fell from one corner of his mouth and his breath was still a forced pant. But his eyes were soft and he leaned towards her to say, "Didn't anyone tell you to knock first, before you enter?"

His hand gently squeezed her elbow and he flashed a dazzling smile down at her. His feet, now bare, slapped lightly against the bathroom's floor as he opened the door and walked down the hallway, to the end where his bedroom was. Yuffie watched him as he walked, his shoulders glistening and strong, and she could see no scars where the wings burst from, or even a trace of imperfection.

She let out a deep breath she forgot she was holding in, gathered her shampoo and soap and turned the shower on as high as it could go. Yuffie sighed again, in longing, as the slam of Vincent's bedroom door matched the sound of the bathroom's.  
--

He felt, rather than knew, that someone was waiting for him. He placed one hand against the window and saw only clouds kissed by the moon. There was the sound of feet and he turned, watching Yuffie approach him, her hair still wet from her nightly shower.

"Hey." Yazoo smiled and hoped that she didn't see the tears that hugged the corners of his blue green eyes. In response to his soft greeting, Yuffie turned to look out the same window, her brown eyes glistening with the moonlight.

"It's been a long journey, hasn't it?" Her voice was soft and soothing and Yazoo closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry.

"Yeah, it has." Yazoo coughed and waited until he knew he could speak without a shaking voice. "Where are we headed, Yuffie?"

"A place-" Yuffie glanced up at Yazoo, smiling. "-called Scar."  
--

_Author's notes: All right! I promised you a long, juicy chapter and here it is! Man the tension between Yuffie and Vincent in this chapter was INTENSE for me to write. I always like a little bit of comedy to hit home a rather dramatic part of a story and the towel incident is a clear indictation of this personal preferance of mine. This is by far my most FAVORITE chapter in the whole series so far, PLEASE tell me if you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it  
_


	11. ritual

**ritual**

He swung the heels of his feet onto the top of the worn kitchen table, gesticulating with a flicker of his left hand. His eyes were yellowed and silted against the harsh glare of the fluorescent light bulb swinging overhead.

"Lila!" His voice was a gruff bark, yet his lips were curled in a smile that held some bit of warmth.

"Yeah, Dad?" Lila's braid swung over her shoulder as she glanced back, one hand still tightly wrapped around the dirty plates she just cleared off the table.

"You be careful." Her father took another slow drag at his pipe, exhaling a thick plume of smoke into the air. Mosquitoes droned as Lila placed the dishes into the sink. Through the haze of smoke, he watched Lila gather the leftover of dinner and slip her feet into straw sandals.

"I know, Dad. I know."

He spoke just as the backdoor banged against the rickety frame. "Don't think I ain't watching."  
--

Sitting in the corner of the dusty living room, he seemed at peace working on a brilliantly silver miniature engine. There were traces of oil on the back of his hands, black tar that dripped onto the edges of the bandage that hugged his left wrist neatly and the smell of fuel was draped over his shoulders like a cloak. Every day, more and more villagers came by the inn to watch the man as he worked, sometimes whistling, sometimes gently laughing to himself. But because of how bright his eyes shone, even when there was no light flashing on them, the villagers knew he was someone from Midgar, that fallen city to the west, over the ocean. Because they knew where he came from, they stayed away.

Except for Lila, the daughter of the bartender, Simon. Each night, she would sit by the man's side, offering leftovers from dinner and asking again and again the question that lingered on everyone's mind.

"Who you waiting for?"

And in reply, the man, who Lila says goes by the name Cloud, smiled and ate his food, wiping clean his hands before he dove into the piles of meat and vegetables.

They say at night, Cloud would walk around the inn, looking up at the stars as if he lost something up there. And during the day, he slept, fitfully in the tiny room on the third floor, his footsteps sometimes echoing all the way down to the foyer.

They called him a ghost, though the girls of the village couldn't help but notice the silver ring he wore around his finger. And the girls knew – no ghost ever had a heart that he could give away.  
--

Hey, hey, hey! This is Marlene! And DENZEL the man! And YOU GOT.. CLOUD'S VOICEMAIL! Yipee! Yay! **Press 1 to leave a message or wait for the tone. Press 5 to leave a numeric page. Beep. ** Cloud, we're on our way to Scar. **Beep**.  
--

There were times at night where he could hear the thick breathing of the demon inside him. When the silence plunged deep and his eyes refused to close, he would stand for hours on end, and glance at the passage of the night clouds or watch for shadows of flying birds. Inside, he could hear it scratching at his chest, raging at the corners of his mouth and all Vincent could do was stand still and wait.

Tonight, as he stood by one of the Seirra's wide windows, all he could hear was the dull roar of the airship's engine while jolt after jolt of pain danced all over his body, feeling like shocks of electricity. He clutched one hand tightly over his claw, and could feel the cold glint of metal against his fingers.

He knew one day it'll eat him up and destroy whatever was left of him that could be called human. What bothered him the most was that he spent so long just waiting and watching.

When the shadows flickered to one side, he glanced over his shoulder and noticed that he was not alone. The room filled with the sound of raspy breathing and before Vincent could summon a half smile to his face and remove his clutched hands, a voice called out, filled with warmth,

"Whatcha standin' there for?"  
"Cid, you still up?"

Cid slapped his forehead lightly with the flat of his palm, a gesture that spoke only disbelief and utter frustration. It was a gesture that Vincent was most familiar with; besides shaking her head frantically and pumping her fist manically in the air, Yuffie slapped her forehead a lot too.

"Goddamn vampire! Can't sleep, eh?"  
"Well…. yeah."

"SACARSTIC PIECE OF SHIT!" Cid gestured over his shoulder with his thumb and cocked a half smile towards Vincent's puzzled face. "We don't got no blood, but I'm sure we got some beer or something."

The pain stretched from the pit of his stomach and clawed its way up his throat and yet, all Vincent could do was smile. In typical Cid fashion, the gruff man was off to the ship's kitchen before Vincent could reply.  
--

The bottles slammed against the table as Cid placed them down, one after the other until Vincent could see six sweating bottles of beer. He watched as Cid rummaged through the huge, industrial-size refrigerator, pulling out leftover chicken and a bowl of cold mashed potatoes. Placed everything within arm's grasp of Vincent, Cid pulled up two stools, dragging them along the linoleum floor. He gestured for Vincent to sit, and sat himself down, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket as he did so.

Vincent hesitated only for a second, and then elegantly sat, cross-legged, on the stool, hunched over the beer that Cid graciously opened for him.

"Heard y'all got tanked even before I came. Nice."

The sounds of their mixed laughter drifted in circles over their heads as Cid opened another bottle and titled the cold liquid down his throat. Between his fingers, the lit cigarette flared like a tiny sun. Vincent reached for a piece of chicken, his hand hovering above the pile of cold meat for a second but then thought against it.

Cid watched as Vincent's hand retracted, falling back to rest gently against his side.

"Ya know, Yuffie's right to be getting all worried about you." He leaned as far back as his stool would let him go, placing the cigarette against his lips. "Doesn't seem right for you to eat next to nothing."

"I'm fine." His reply came in an uncharacteristic grunt; his teeth were clenched and his hands tapped nervously against the table. He shook his head, sending his long black hair flying over his shoulders and unhinged his jaw enough to add, softly, "No need to worry. I've been like this for a long time."

"That's why she's worried."

He leaned forward, hugging the beer bottle with one hand as his eyes glared at Vincent's hunched shoulders and the long lines etched into his face. "Seein' you now, it's like nothing's changed."

"Because it hasn't. We did this all the time. Booze at midnight, sleep till dawn." Vincent titled his bottle in cheers towards Cid's face, trying to ignore the concern that danced deep in his blue eyes.

And then Cid said, point-blank, "You ain't changed at all. Ain't aged a day."

The bottle hit the table squarely as Vincent lowered his glaze to stare at his hands. The silence that fell between them was heavy and metallic, smelling of cigarette smoke and diesel. Cid drank the rest of his beer as if it was water and the sudden popping of a bottle cap striking the wall next to his head made him look up at Vincent with surprise.

Vincent lowered his clawed hand and pushed the open beer toward Cid's eager arms. He coughed twice, clearing the smoke in front of his face before he spoke again, "I can't die, Cid."

"Must be nice."  
"So one would like to think."

He stretched his arms high over his head and glanced up at the kitchen's fluorescent light. Whenever he stared at a light directly, his eyes flared bright red and his face seem to pale even more, becoming a shade akin to pure snow. "I'm not like the rest of you all. I told you this before."

"That why you never came to visit me and Shera?"  
"Partly, yes."

Cid took an angry drag of his cigarette and jabbed viciously at the direction of Vincent with one finger. "Don't play that melodramatic shit on me, asshole."

Vincent lowered his arms and stared at Cid, his head titled to the side in anticipation of Cid's tirade. With all the fire and brimstone his gruff voice could muster, Cid spoke, slamming his bottle against the table whenever he wanted to emphasized his point.

"You ain't no lonely bastard, all alone in some goddamn coffin, no more. Everyone's always calling bout you, wondering where the hell you at. I'm flyin' this ship and Shera calls everyday, nagging my ass if I saw you yet. And then you call out of nowhere, I come find you in a fucking CAVE and you're going on and on about how you're some sorta freak of nature."

Cid slammed his now empty bottle of beer against the table so hard that the glass splintered, sending a crack up its spine all the way to its skinny neck. Cid's nostrils flared and when he lifted his hand to place a cigarette against his lips, his hand shook with anger.

"Don't you see, you're alone cause you want it like that!"  
"I'm alone because I have to be."

"BULLSHIT! You tryin' to heal Yazoo so you can get on with that redemption shit of yours. Well hurry up, and then move into mine and Shera's place." And then a smile broke across the storm of his face and Cid sheepishly exhaled a plume of smoke. "We'll be needing a babysitter soon."

Vincent reached out to clutch Cid's shoulder, as if in reassurance or congratulations. "Kids are terrified of me, Cid."

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Cid shook off Vincent's hand and reached for his third beer. "Besides, there's one kid who wants your ass."

"Don't go there, Cid."  
"You fucked Yuffie yet?"

"Cid!" Vincent grabbed the beer out of Cid's hand before the man could take a gulp of the amber liquid. As Cid turned to reach for his beer, Vincent stood, gathering the two remaining bottles in his other hand. "No more drinking." Vincent's voice was cool, absolute as he turned to walk toward the refrigerator.

"Hey." If Vincent turned to glance over his shoulder, he would see the smile that danced across Cid's face was filled with uncharacteristic warmth. "She wants you."

"I know."  
"You ain't so dense as we thought. Whatcha gonna do bout it?"

Vincent sighed softly, his bangs lifting off his forehead with his escaped breath. He placed one hand against the refrigerator's door and sighed again.

"It's just infatuation.. Long hair, older man, mysterious … all that nonsense."  
"Infatuation my ass. You gonna go for it?"

"No."  
"You sure?"

Vincent paused for a split second and closed the refrigerator door with a firm hand. His voice was like iron striking against the cold of night, "Yes, of course."

Cid watched Vincent leave the kitchen, his shoulders straight and feet barely making a sound across the linoleum floor. As he reached across the tabletop, reaching for the covered bowls of food, Cid thought to himself how that brief second of hesitation and the slight hunch of Vincent's shoulders all betrayed the cold harshness of Vincent's iron voice.

It was the same for him, Cid mused as he got up to put away the leftovers, the way Shera's smile crept under his skin and plunged like a knife into his mind, until all he could see was her face, even in the darkest shadow.

It was an illumination of things that could be. It was hope and Vincent finally had the chance to claim it for his own.

_Come on now_, Cid smiled softly to himself, a tenderness that lifted the deep lines that sank into his forehead and made his eyes suddenly lit up, as bright as Cloud's, _Vincent, you ain't foolin' nobody._

_--  
Author's notes: FINALLY AN UPDATE! Yay me! So my summer job just ended and riding on the high that inevitably comes from teaching, I decided to write a chapter focusing on Cid and Vincent and the friendship I always envisioned them to have during the game. I also liked the contrast of Vincent surrounded by a lot of people and Cloud, who spends most of his time alone in a desolate country village. Sets the stage quite nicely for the next few chapters. I wrote this while listening to Sanctuary from KH2. Yeah, I'm a sap. _


	12. anniversary

**anniversary**

She knew something was wrong; it was the way his eyes glazed over her whenever they spoke, as if he was staring for something off in the distance. He didn't even bother to pick up the book he was reading during the first few days of the journey and was absent for meals. It wasn't as if he ate a lot anyway, but his presence at the kitchen table made a world of difference.

"Ya can't tell someone like him what to do, Yuffie," replied Cid when she brought to his attention the rather odd, standoffish behavior of Vincent, "better if ya just wait it out."

Even Yazoo, whose quickly growing hair and the hint of stubble around his fair face belied the length of their journey, had words of patience to offer Yuffie. "Didn't you call him a cheap vampire? I'm sure he's just going through something."

They were standing on the deck of the airship, watching the last golden ray of light sink to the east. It was a crisp fall evening with the passing shadows of geese blocking the last of the sunset. Yazoo's crutches lay in a neat pile on the floor of the deck, and the slender man sat cross-legged on the deck's floor. He kept both hands wrapped around the rail to steady his balance. Yuffie, wrapped in her black sweater, hopped from one foot to another, trying to ignore the pains of motion sickness that clutched at her stomach.

"Cheap vampire or not, Yazoo, Vince hasn't acted this way since the Geo-..."

She covered her mouth quickly; the silence between them growing into a deep chasm that ended all friendly smiles and conversation. It was an unspoken rule between them that what happened last year, the rebirth of Sephiroth and the fighting between Cloud and the others, was never to be mentioned. It messed up the pleasantries of daily rituals, like watching the sunset together or playing darts with the crew after dinner.

Yazoo lowered his head, letting the long strands of silver hair that framed his face to fall into his cerulean eyes. They were silent until a sudden gush of wind shifted the airship slightly and sent Yuffie sprawling onto the floor, hitting her head against the railing in the process.

"OW!"

He couldn't move from his spot at the railing; his legs were still too weak to walk. However, he reached out a hand to gently pat Yuffie on the head, brushing away her hair as he did so.

"You're such a klutz." Yazoo smiled at her, this time a smile that reached all the way to his eyes as Yuffie sheepishly got up. "Whatever! At least I can walk."

"Just barely."  
"SHUT UP!"  
--

Yuffie kept one hand steady against Yazoo's back as they walked together down the hallway, waving to a passing crew member. His crutches hit the floor squarely as they limped to the galley, and pressed so close against him, Yuffie never realized how tall he was. It was the curtain of hair that floated behind him as he walked or the golden glint of his blue eyes. As Yuffie stared longer and longer at him, she saw what Cloud saw back then; there was the ghost of Sephiroth deep inside Yazoo.

"Yuffie?"  
"Hmm?"

"What's wrong? Food on my face?"  
"No, nothing."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bit of red turning the corner. She only had to look once up at Yazoo to find him nodding and off she went, chasing Vincent down another one of the airship's metal hallways.

What she didn't see, as she turned the corner, was Yazoo's eyes as he watched her run and the way his face looked as he continued to walk to the galley, alone.  
--

He stopped at the front of his bedroom door and stood with his shoulders straight and arms crossed. Yuffie saw him pause and tried to stop in time, however the ship lurched again and she was thrown off balance. She almost fell straight into his standing figure if he did not turn around in time to catch her in the open nest of his arms.

"VINCENT!" She barked, trying to ignore the way her heart rose suddenly to her throat or the elegance of his hands, steadily holding her up. "WHERE YOU RUNNING TO?"

Vincent put her back on her feet before he gestured towards his bedroom door. Her cheeks blushed crimson red as Yuffie stood before him, one hand on the back of her head.

"Why you sleepin' so soon? You haven't even eaten dinner yet."  
"Not hungry."

Vincent reached for the doorknob and then, suddenly, turned to Yuffie, glancing directly into her eyes. For a moment, Yuffie was startled by the intensity that shone there, a level of seriousness she hadn't seen from Vincent in two years.

"Yuffie, leave me alone."

It was his voice that could drive away even the most eager of pursuers. Rough and to the point, the way Vincent used to talk when they first met. Yuffie shook her head and made a grab for his claw, not even noticing how the metal tips sank into the soft of her palm.

"What's your problem? Seriously!"  
"Just let me be."

"NO!" Yuffie's shout was an echo that danced around the empty hallway and sounded a cascade that fell over both their heads. "Why are you so retarded, Vincent!" Her voice cracked and before Vincent could reply, she threw herself into his arms, knowing that he'll catch her again. Pressed against his chest, her voice was muffled but when he stooped lower to catch her voice, he could hear every word she said clearly.

"- don't think you have it hard! What about Cloud, all the way out there at Scar, by himself!"

When she glanced up to look at Vincent's face, her eyes were brimmed red and flowing with tears, "I miss her, too."

Wordlessly, Vincent held Yuffie as she cried, rocking her shoulders back and forth with the motion of her tears. He locked his hands together over the back of her head and stood, holding Yuffie close. It was the same, three years ago. How angry Yuffie was, how she exploded into tears and clung onto whoever would hold her. It was only Vincent who could hold her without crying as well.

"I'm sorry." Vincent gently patted her head, feeling the tears that fell against his chest sink deep into his skin. "I'm so sorry, Yuffie."  
--

When Lila went to the inn later that night, she found Cloud fast asleep in the flicker of the inn's fire, the flames softly illuminating the streaks of tears that fell in his sleep. He looked beautiful like that.

Lila placed the bouquet of freshly cut roses, the ones Cloud asked her to buy for him, on the floor, near his feet.  
--

Cid waved a hand in welcome as Vincent walked into his room, his long black hair carefully tied at the nape of his neck. Without his cape, Vicent passed off as even younger than he looked - if not for the despair that raged deep in his eyes.

"How's the girl?" Cid deftly blew a smoke ring towards Vincent's face as Vincent walked to where Cid sat, sprawled on the floor near the window. The moon was a shining crescent and the wind that blew lightly against airship sounded like a cry.

"She's sleeping now. Yazoo's with her." Vincent sat himself next toCid, and actually took the cigarette he offered with a grateful grin. Cid leaned in close to Vincent as the lighter's flame licked the edge of the cigarette. Cid looked at Vincent squarely in his face and noticed the tears that seemed to well at the corners of his crimson eyes.

"You okay, Vincent?"  
"The worst part of it all is that no matter how long you live, you can't forget."

Cid nodded and lifted his face up to the celing. The tobacco filled his mouth like a warm kiss, and Cid closed his eyes to guard against the pain. "She would've liked this ship. That's what she always wanted, ya know. To fly."

"I know."

Out of the corner of his mouth, Vincent let out one more stream of smoke, letting it mingle above the air like a holy prescence. They smoked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts when Cid suddenly coughed and gruffly said, "Hope Cloud's okay."

"Me too."  
--

In his dream, her hand was warm and real and the emptiness that tore him apart faded to nothing. In his dream, Denzel giggled at her temper and she made garlands of flowers for Tifa and Marlene.

And when he woke, the fire of the inn was out and the scent of flowers filled his nose, danced all the way to his heart and left it aching. Cloud hugged his knees and lowered his face to them. He started to cry, as the sun rose, gold light that caused the white roses by his bare feet to glow as if alive.

As if to say, she was still there, right beside him.  
--


	13. rain's scar I: scattered

_author's notes: Yay! I finally got everyone to Scar, but more importantly Yazoo and Cloud are now in the same place which means… this chapter's going to be one of tergiversation's longest, and perhaps the one filled with most action. This chapter's going to be broken up into three parts, so I won't be so overwhelmed in writing it. I'm in a rush to finish this chapter up for you guys before I move back to college this Monday and take my hiatus for a little bit, just so I can get back into the swing of the whole college thing again. Happy reading and please keep reviewing! As you can tell by my other fanfics, my stories aren't that popular, and to have so many people reading tergiversation is so awesome. Thank you again!  
--_

**  
rain's scar  
I: scattered **

Only when it rained did she notice how sad her father looked. Today, the rain fell rather hard against the house's roof, the windows slightly open to let in the scent of wet earth. She sighed, pulled tight her ponytail and gathered her doll close. She already heard voices drifting from the first floor; smoothing the creases of her dress with one hand, she hurriedly slipped her feet into pink house slippers and ran downstairs.

"So how's the little man doin'?" Her father's voice boomed from all corners of the hallway, followed by a hearty laugh capable of filling every room in the house with warmth. And when she heard his reply, a soft, almost shy, "I'm okay," she let out a loud shriek of joy. Her doll fell noiselessly onto the wooden floor and she ran into his arms, almost knocking him over.

"DENZEL!"

"Hi!" Denzel smiled with all the joy a ten-year old could possibly know, and it tore Tifa's heart to see such purity shine in his face. Marlene grabbed a hold of Denzel's hand, jerking the boy's arm with her frantic movements.

"Daddy said we could go play outside 'cept we gotta be careful not to fall." Marlene flashed a grin up at Barret's face. "That okay, Dad?"

Barret placed a callous hand, with nails bitten to the quick, on Marlene's head and nodded. "Put on 'em new boots we just brought."

"Okay, Daddy! Come on, 'Zel!"

"Go on." Tifa gently nudged Denzel forward when the boy stared up at her, his head titled to one side to wait for her approval. He smiled again and took off, chasing Marlene down the front hallway to the backyard. It was only when the back door slammed, reverberating throughout the tiny house, did Barret turn to Tifa to say,

"Wanna drink?"  
--

"GAH!" Yuffie swatted at her head, trying to cover it from the pelting rain. She kept one hand tightly wrapped around Yazoo's wrist and swerved her head left and right, trying to find Vincent in the crowd that hugged the landing dock.

"Yuffie! Wait, I can't walk this fast!" His cries were lost as Yuffie pushed her way through the crowd, edging herself between a burly man and a blonde woman with the neck of a giraffe. He was startled to see Yuffie blink once, twice in disbelief at the passing woman and then before he could inquire of her curiosity, Yuffie was off and running again, dragging him as fast as his crutches could take him.

And he heard, straining against the roar of the crowd, Yuffie muttering to herself, "Good lord, could have sworn that was him."

Yazoo almost broke his neck trying to peer back over his shoulder at the blond woman they just bumped into, moments before. But already the crowd swallowed her in a mass of moving, laughing, shouting figures. Yazoo turned back to Yuffie, tightening his hold on her waist.

"Who she look like?"  
"NONE OF YER BUSINESS!"

She paused in her hectic run to look up at him with crossed eyes. She stuck out her tongue, a gesture so childish and so fitting of her character that for a moment, Yazoo was content on just standing still, smiling at her. Her mouth opened again, as if to continue with her lecture when a rough hand grabbed her by the scruff of her collar. Instinctively, Yazoo tightened his hold on his crutch and bent his left knee as low as it could go, but before he could take a swing at the arm that held Yuffie, the girl let out a shriek.

"GODDAMNIT CID! WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?"

"What's my problem? Lil' Miss Hissy-Fit and Zoo-boy over here get lost, Vincent's fucking gone and you're askin' ME what's my problem?"

His nostrils flared as he exhaled a plume of smoke to blow directly at Yuffie's face, something he knew made her eyes water and her cheeks explode in a coughing fit. He turned to Yazoo and smirked at the sight of his long, silver hair clinging to his scalp and the glare of his eyes that looked so much like Cloud's.

"What got stuck in yer asshole, Zoo-boy?"

And then, tugging on Yazoo's wrist to stop the onslaught of insults that flew into his mouth, Yuffie stared up at Cid.

"What 'bout Vincent?"

After two weeks on the airship with them all, Yazoo still had moments when he felt as if he was the outsider, someone staring through a tiny crack hoping to see the whole picture. He could feel how alien and how far removed he was from everything as he saw the glance that passed between Yuffie's chocolate brown eyes and Cid's own worried face.

Yazoo cleared his throat, pushing back the curtain of wet bangs that fell into his eyes with the back of his right hand, "So, erm, why don't we go look for him?"

"AW FUCK NO!" Cid slapped the flat of his palm against his forehead, a gesture Yazoo swore he saw Vincent discreetly do, many times before. "We brought yer here to go to a doctor! AND THAT'S WHERE YER GOIN'!"  
--

The entrance to the town of Scar was a steel gate decorated with engravings of two ships, crossing each other on a metal sea. It was remarkable how a town of just over five thousand people could seem, to his travel-weary eyes, a bustling metropolis filled with sound. The rain that fell from the sky did not hinder the crowd of people walking back and forth, from one shop to another. He wanted to go somewhere quiet, where there were less eyes glancing nervously at his huddle figure but most of all, he wanted to be back in the Seirra, seeing the same people he saw each and every day.

Cid's crew was used to the sight of his pale skin and metal claw. The people of Scar were not.

He kept his chin carefully tucked into the tiny crevice of space between his chest and his raised knees and covered his head, best he could, with the end of his frayed crimson cape. It didn't stop the rain from soaking him so completely that he could feel the outline of the book he kept in his pocket hug against his skin. His long hair, now just one wet curtain that clung to his shoulders, seemed to drag against his scalp, making his neck hurt from the effort it took to keep his eyes staring straight ahead.

_She used to love the rain_, Vincent mused. Or at least, he thought she used to love it. So many long years have passed since Vincent last saw Lucrecia and because his mind was painted with remorse and lost love, he couldn't trust the image he had of her. It scared him, just as much as leather wings that burst from his shoulders or the river of blood he sometimes vomited after eating, that he couldn't remember what Lucrecia's laugh sounded like.

His love for her was perhaps just an imagined thing.

Vincent stayed still even as lighting forked through the sky, illuminating the great market of Scar and all the happy people in it. He was the only one sitting on the benches that stood near the gates of the city, waiting and waiting, lost in his own thoughts.

The rain made his eyes glisten in an unearthly way, as if they were rubies embedded in his face. The girls, the ones who chatted happily with their parents or smoked cigarettes in angry puffs under dripping awnings, saw how beautiful he looked, abandoned and alone They couldn't muster up enough courage to go up to the man with ruby eyes and a face that seemed as if he could wait for all eternity, glazing off into a distance for something no one else could see.  
--

To build anything, you have to remember that you need reliable materials. She knew this because she spent so many days on the beach, learning how to build sandcastles. Now, standing in the square of dirt her father jokingly called, 'a hard-knock garden', she could feel not just the rain fill up the insides of her new shoes, but frustration raising from the pit of her stomach to settle nicely against her heart.

"NOT FAIR!" She threw back her head and wailed, kicking at the muddy ground as she did so. "Where'd it go?" It was supposed to be standing near the tire swing, leaning against the trunk of the single, lopsided elm that stood in the yard.

Denzel turned to Marlene, lowering the umbrella he was previously using to twirl round and round his head, sending droplets of rain splattering everywhere.

"What's wrong?" He tried to hold back his laughter at the intensity that crossed Marlene's face as she stared and stared at a certain spot in the garden. "I built something special right there." Marlene sighed and leaned against Denzel when he placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's apposed to be stay there!"

"What was it?"

Her face was coated with rivers of rainfall, and streaks of dirt that clung to her cheeks like tears. But he could see the sudden reddening of her cheeks and her eyes that widen with embarrassment.

"Just something – Red told me bout it."  
"'Bout what?"

"You build little castles when you're waiting for someone, so they gots something to return back to." She turned to look at the house, where the one window that was illuminated by a lamp, showed Barret and Tifa, sitting together at the kitchen table. Denzel followed her stare, lifting the umbrella so it would cover both of their heads. "Just in case, Cloud gots somewhere to come back to."

Her hand was shaking from the cold, but Denzel held it tight in the grasp of his left hand. The umbrella quivered slightly in his grip when he said, so softly that he wasn't sure Marlene ever heard him, "He'll come back."

They held hands and glanced up and up at the sky, at the rain that pelted against the umbrella in angry cries and from the tree above, a bird sang, perhaps mistaking the flashes of lighting to be sunlight.

"He's gotta."  
--

Little puddles of water escaped from her shoes each time her running feet slapped the concrete. She was wrapped in Cid's heavy leather jacket, and still she could feel the water trying to edge its way into her skin.

The hospital was a tall structure that promised comfort and healing with the flowering bushes that hugged its twin doors. She peered over her shoulder, almost in guilt, as the hospital faded slowly from her sight. And she kept running, bumping into people and trying to jump over the biggest puddles in the streets.

_Cid was with him,_ Yuffie mused, _that's enough._

But somewhere, nestled between her fear that Vincent disappeared this time for good and her desire to see the tall, slender shadow of a man again, she felt guilt, as acute as the wind that blew cold air against her face, lifting her bangs clear off her forehead.

She'll find him and drag him back to the others even before Yazoo had time to notice she was gone. Yuffie nodded to her, grinning at the simplicity of her plan, and ran, struggling to shake off the claws of regret that clung to her slender shoulders.  
--

He watched her run as long as he could see her before she was just another figure in the crowd, from the window of his fifth floor room. In the heat that circulated above his head, a faint curtain of stream rose off his clothes; the jeans he borrowed from Vincent was slowly fading back to their light blue color. His hair started to shine silver again.

Placing one hand against the window pane, he sighed, so deeply that he could feel his chest wavering with his escaped breath. If his legs were strong enough, he'll run after her, stomping through puddles to see the water raise in twin curtains around him. No more crutches to hinder his step or the feel of a bed cushioning his body.

He sighed again and when the door opened to reveal a white-coated doctor, Yazoo's face broke into a soft smile.

The doctor was an older woman, around Cid's age. She knew better than to admit it, but her patient – she hurried to stare down at her clipboard to see her records – her patient Yazoo was a startlingly beautiful man, marked with the glow of mako in his eyes. He was an outsider but he needed help. She could see, reflected in his unearthly eyes and sad smile, he was broken in more ways than one.

_It's a sin_, she thought as she and Yazoo began to talk, her hands already frantically writing notes and her eyes studying the crude but efficient bandages that hugged his legs, _what his eyes have seen, what they're telling me now._  
--

It was noon, at least according to his phone. He kept one hand tightly clutched around the neck of a cold beer, as the other hurried to feed a piece of mango gum into his half opened mouth. If the sun was out, he could have a better view of Scar's busy central square, of the shops that sold everything from guns to stuffed Chocobos to specialty chocolate.

"Yo, look at that Rude, see that?" He gestured with one hand, as if to shatter the dim haze of smoke that surrounded the bar. They were sitting next to the window, a row of empty beer bottles between them. "Yo, Rude, ya listenin?"

Rude emptied his fourth beer, titling his head back to catch every drip of amber liquid. He wiped his mouth cleanly with the back of his hand before he spoke, his sunglasses catching a glint of the lights that flickered uneasily above their heads, "What you saw?"

"That girl looked just like Yuffie, ya know!" Reno lowered his hand. "I guess everyone really IS here, ya know?"

"You chickening out?"

"Hell no." Reno lifted his head and the uncharacteristic warmth that was just there, moments before, disappeared. His lips curled into a half sneer. "Yo, Reeve's orders, ya know?"  
--

"Stupid ass."

His head flinched at the insult and he glanced up to stare into sapphire blue eyes. The rain suddenly lessen as he saw the shadow of the umbrella Cloud held in one hand. The other was clutched around a bouquet of white roses, dripping, with their heads bowed as if in prayer.

Vincent looked into Cloud's face and saw the same fatigue and weariness that ran rampant in his own face. Cloud's blonde hair was carefully sheltered by the hood of a long jacket that lengthened his shadow and dangling from his ear shone a single, silver strand..

"Hey." Vincent reached up to shake free his long hair that clung to his wet shoulders as Cloud peered over his left shoulder.

"Before we do anything, there's a church I want to go visit." Vincent nodded in understanding, his eyes seeming to shallow the brilliance of the roses Cloud held clutched in one hand.

They walked in silence, Cloud holding the umbrella high enough to cover Vincent's still soaked head. And then, softly, Vincent said, "You shouldn't have been left alone all this time."

When he looked up to stare at him, Vincent saw a reflection of himself, battered and forgotten, echoed in the depths of Cloud's eyes. They were more alike than anyone would ever know.

His voice was a hoarse reply, as if he struggled to speak the words in his heart before he set them loose in the darkening sky.

"Don't name my sins before your own, Vincent."  
--


	14. rain's scar II: storm

**rain's scar  
II: storm**  
--

I'm sorry but I can't answer the phone. You can leave a message for me, if you want. **Press 1 to leave a message or wait for the tone. Press 5 to leave a numeric page. Beep. **Vincent, hi. I was just wondering if you've seen him yet. If you did, tell him, Zel and I are doing fine, just a bit lonely. We're staying at Barret's for a bit. Take care of yourself, Yuffie's been telling me how you haven't been eating. You goof. **Beep  
--**

The church had walls of wood, paneled with stained glass that reflected scenes of knights and angels, falling from the sky with hands raised in blessing. He sat in the farthest pew, in a puddle of rain that fell from his clothes, his eyes following Cloud up the altar.

For a second, he thought Cloud would falter; his shoulders shook as if a sudden surge of pain exploded through his body. But then, he turned and smiled at Vincent's watchful face. Wordlessly, with just a sudden intensity in his sapphire eyes, Cloud beckoned for Vincent to join him. Vincent sighed again, and tried his best to gather his damp hair into a knot over his left shoulder; there was nothing he could about the click of his claw echoing throughout the silent church.

The roses were carefully placed before a candle Cloud lit in offering. Vincent studied the way the flame flickered in the draft of the cold wind that leaked from the corners of the church, how the light danced across the stone angel that stood before them, wings lifted high up, as if to break through the church's roof to rest in the sky itself.

Cloud lowered his head, in prayer or in thought, Vincent couldn't tell. Now, this close to the younger man, Vincent saw the fatigue that gathered in dark circles under his eyes and the stench of the long road cut deep into the folds of his very skin.

When he spoke, once more his voice was hoarse and hesitant, "We don't belong here, huh, Vincent?"

"How'd you figure?" Vincent titled his head back to catch a full glimpse of the angel statue that stood before them, stone eyes that were lifted to see something farther greater than the two men before her. The church smelled of hot candle wax and the dust of books that were opened and closed in the huddled hands of pure believers. He passed a hand over his eyes, as if to shut out the sight of flickering candles and stained glass. Something inside him lurched and twisted itself into the center of his throbbing throat.

A hand on his shoulder made Vincent lower his own palm and stare into Cloud's face, etched with sadness so profound, it spoke of Vincent's own pain, of regret that buried itself deep in the gathering darkness.

"Let's go."  
--

They walked underneath one umbrella, each mindful of the silence that hugged them in comfort. The market was growing even more crowded, with school children, all dressed in uniforms, running to and fro, running through puddles and chewing sweet, sweet candies. From doorways, shopkeepers screeched for patrons and customers, and the scent of hot food drifted from the half opened windows of restaurants. He peered anxiously at Cloud's gaunt figure, as if he suddenly noticed how hungry his eyes were.

They stopped by a crepe maker, where Vincent order two crepes filled with honey and drizzled with rose water. The sweet smell of vanilla filled the air above their heads as Cloud watched the vendor eagerly, as if he was as young as Denzel, making the elderly woman smile as she flipped the cooking crepe into the air. He thanked her with a voice alive with joy, sending Vincent back to past days, where Cloud marveled at the sight of fireworks in the sky or bowed his head profusely at the feast Yuffie's father offered them all.

_All he's been through and still, so happy for something as small as a simple, 2 gil crepe._

They walked farther and farther into Scar's center, where the busy market gradually faded away to reveal office buildings and a library of brick and mortar. Vincent struggled to keep the umbrella over their heads as the wind blew harder, as if in warning of the impending storm. It was only when they first caught sight of the looming hospital did Vincent say, loudly to override the ramble of thunder in the sky.

"Tifa's waiting for you."  
"I know."

"She calls me everyday, asking if I saw you yet. Sometimes, Denzel takes the phone and screams out your name."

Cloud licked a finger topped with a slight drip of honey and nodded, his eyes lifting to stare into Vincent's own. "We're always so blind to the things that'll make us happy." The smile on his lips had nothing to do with joy.  
--

She ran as if her life was being stolen from her with every step of her running feet. Ever since she was little, she remembered having to search for something in the long marble hallways of her father's house. It helped, he always said, with training. Ninjas were supposed to find their target swiftly, quietly and without compliant. But now, as her eyes frantically turned left and right, scanning the bustle and flow of people, she felt as if she was going insane. He was nowhere to be seen. She flexed her legs and then took a running leap over a crate of fruit left on the street, nearly knocking over the vendor who stood behind it.

When she did find him, she was going to give him hell.

A hand grabbed her elbow, pulling her back with a firm grip. Without even hesitating, Yuffie reached back with her free hand and slapped her captor roughly across the face.

"YO!"

Reno shook his head in disbelief as Rude, watching from slightly in the corner, burst into laughter. It was good to see how bright Reno's eyes were, an affect that had nothing to do with the alcohol they were previously drinking. "That how you treat yer friends, ya know?"

She shook her head, trying to forget the sudden taste of mango gum that rose to her lips. Reno's bangs, logged with rain, fell across his face in crimson slants and his green eyes glimmered in the reflection of the street lamps. They were dressed in their trademark crisp suits; Rude kept his impeccably clean, with a pair of silver cufflinks while Reno's dress shirt was undone to the fifth button and a pair of goggles perched haphazardly on his head.

Wrapping her arms over her body, she started to hop from one foot to another, "You guys dressed for work? What's up?"

Wordlessly, Rude turned, casting one look at Reno's sheepish face. Rude started walking back to the bar they just emerged from as Reno shifted his glaze to stare into Yuffie's own deep brown ones. He watched her hair cling to her forehead, her cheeks and her hands move up and down her shoulders, trying to rub warmth in them. It was lovely, to see her like this, free of her long robes and the burden of tradition.

He took off his blazer, which was barely even wet, and reached for Yuffie's elbow. Pulling her close, he draped the heavy blazer over her shoulders, never letting go of his hold on her arm. And when he leaned forward, much to her flustered cheeks and sudden surprise, to place his lips neatly against the crook of her ear, he said, softly enough to burn against her skin, "Ya look good, wet like that, babe."

Her hand sang in the air as she lifted it high to smack him across the face. But before her eager palm could sink against the soft of his cheek, Reno grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Come on, let's get out of the rain, ya know."

"Can't go nowhere if you're hugging me, dumbass."  
"Then let go, yo."

She hungered for a touch like this, of human warmth to chase away the thoughts of loneliness that clung to her in late hours, smelling like closed books and dusty corners. It was warmth that was the same, no matter who touched her. She could spend hours chasing after Vincent and his red tinged shadow but for now, she was content on leaning against Reno, wrapped in his jacket that smelled like cigarettes, chocolate and mango gum, a scent so foreign to Yuffie's nose.

"YOU LET GO FIRST, TURK-HEAD!"  
"As if."

They clung onto each other, each buried in thoughts that were so far removed from battlefields and gunpowder, electricity and the whistle of a shuriken cutting through the air. For once, their thoughts were of a gentler, quieter place. The streetlamps seemed to glisten and glow with the sparkle of travel-stained stars. It was love they thought about, and that was the important thing, regardless of who they were in love with.

And the rain fell, and fell, and fell.  
--

He didn't know what made him hate hospitals, whether it was the fake flowers that hugged every level surface within a 20 feet radius or the blinding white coats of the doctors and nurses, who all smiled with such fake patience. When she had their baby, Cid swore it'll be at home, surrounded by the mess of their lives; crumbles piles of clothes, overturned shoes, the living room table that held the remains of an engine he never finished working on.

Sprawled out on an armchair near the window, Cid could keep an eye on the street down below, while still close enough to overhear what the doctor had to say to Yazoo. It was rather frightening how fond he was becoming of Yazoo and all his erratic moods, how the dumb ass couldn't figure his way out of the airship's lavatory but knew more about swords and weapons than even Vincent did. Cid wasn't the type of man to easily forget and previous history with silver haired, cerulean eyed men all spelled one thing; insanity. But he was becoming quite fond of Yazoo as if he was just another one of the buddies, someone to drink and swear at. Shera would have loved to meet Yazoo, giggling at the prospect of introducing all her friends to him and squealing over how much he would eat.

Shera never failed to call him every day, leaving voice messages in response to the conversation they had the night before. Her laugh over the phone was just a flattened version of her melodic laughter, but still, it never failed to make Cid smile with joy. She always ended each message with a sincere invitation to not just Yazoo, but also to Vincent and Yuffie, for them to come visit their home. Sometimes, she told Cid to make sure after all this is done with, to come back with Vincent, to make sure he's okay. When they talked on the phone, Shera would go nonstop for a good ten minutes about how their baby was kicking and moving around and giving her the worst backaches and yes, she stopped drinking coffee because of course caffeine's bad when you're pregnant and no, Diesel would be a terrible name for any baby, even if it was a middle name.

Cid lifted both of his arms high over his head, stretching this way and that in his armchair. He missed his wife more than he would ever like to say.

So deep was he in his thoughts that Cid never noticed the hospital elevator's doors opening wide, like a mouth, to reveal a drenched Vincent. At once, the elderly woman who sat near the elevator clutched tight her purse and wouldn't even lift her eyes as Vincent walked by, his long legs barely brushing against her knee. She drew back her legs, crossing them tightly and croaked out hoarsely, "Foreigner."

Vincent gritted his teeth and willed himself to keep walking, past the staring eyes of all the seated and waiting patients. Again, he wished he had something to tie back his hair with and regretted not taking off his cape before entering the hospital. Under the fluorescent lights overhead, his eyes shone bright, the crimson becoming as illuminated as a ruby held to the sun. He kept his eyes watching the ground, trying to hide his claw in the folds of his long, water logged cape and still, they stared.

"Cid."

His head snapped back to attention at the sudden sounding of his name. Cid smiled at Vincent, amuse by the uncertainty etched in the contours of his long face. Cid stared into Vincent's eyes and saw the uncomfortable look found within. His eyes drifted to Vincent's hand, where a half eaten crepe still lingered, scenting the room lightly with honey.

"What the fuck? Why yer look like someone just peed in yer coffin, Vincent?" Cid chuckled at his own joke as Vincent stood over him, his face suddenly covered with a look of intensity and urgency. It was the same mask they all wore, whenever walking to battle.

"Cid, we have to go. Now."  
"Ya, sure, as soon as Zoo-boy's done."

The elevator door opened again, this time to reveal a hooded Cloud, his blonde hair sticking close to the angles of his face. His blue eyes shone as brightly as Vincent's but he didn't lower his eyes, as if in shame. Instead, he smiled, waving his fingers at a little girl, about Marlene's age, who peered at him from behind a raised magazine.

Vincent spoke softly, shifting his shoulders slightly to allow Cid to have a better view of the room.

"I mean now."

"Wha-?" Cid's question was broken in half when he caught sight of an approaching Cloud. It's been a little less than a month since Cid last saw Cloud, but the eyes were the same; blue strikes against the harsh white of the fluorescent lights and shimmers. His shoulders were pushed back and his head was held high, and to see that determination that once colored Cloud's whole essence alive and flaring once more caused Cid to lower his whole face, his hands searching through his pockets for a cigarette to hide the sudden grin that danced across Cid's gruff face.

He lifted both hands to grasp the sides of his black hood and flung it back, revealing his blonde hair and smiled. It was only then when Cid saw the accumulation of the past year's journey; Cloud's smile was so sad, as if weighed down by his consciousness or something even deeper than that, something that no one could see. The depth of that smile, all the implications of pain and loss that was spoken from it, was a true indication of just how far, and how alone, Cloud traveled.

"How you doin', Cid?"  
--

They walked in silence, just for a few minutes when suddenly he stopped in mid-step to stare up at the falling rain. His black hair darken to night around his shoulders. Closing his eyes, as if to shut off its crimson glare, he took a long breath and exhaled.

He told.

Cid listened, and then took a long, long drag of his cigarette. The smoke he let fly from the corner of his face disintegrated with the touch of falling rain. They stood under a streetlamp, dim light casting a hazy halo around both of their figures. He reached out to take a hold of Vincent's shoulder roughly, as if to offer comfort.

Vincent opened his eyes to watch the way the light shifted with each falling raindrop. Their shadows were cut long into the wet grey of the sidewalk.  
--

He stood directly near the door, leaning against the wall, instead of sitting in the white armchairs that hugged the corners of the waiting room. Unzipping his long black jacket, Cloud pushed the sleeves up, trying to dust off the blue shirt he wore inside. The silver ring, with its wolf's head, caught the reflection of the room's overhead lights, flaring like a sunspot and Cloud ran his hands once, twice over his hair. It was the minimal, pristine environment of the hospital, with its framed pictures of imaginary beaches and grinning dolphins, the fake flowers that stood on every table like sentinels on guard, that made Cloud always feel as if he didn't belong there, tracking in with his feet all the dust of the long roads he traveled. Hospitals terrified him, and standing there, making sure he brushed off whatever specks of dust that clung onto the folds of his skin was only a way to calm his nerves and give his beating heart some sort of peace.

"You."

Cloud looked up to see Yazoo before him, his left leg set in a snow white cast and his right ankle wrapped and bounded tightly by brown bandages. Yazoo looked up at him, from his wheelchair, and the distance his eyes traveled to meet Cloud's own marked in the sudden tightening of the hands he kept folded together in his lap. His hair was tied neatly at the nape of his neck, and with no silver hair framing his cerulean eyes to summon old ghosts and deepen past scars, Yazoo looked venerable, and most of all, young. Cloud saw a trace of Denzel's innocence corroded deep into Yazoo's face and to that touch of venerability, Cloud smiled, standing straight before Yazoo's sitting self.

And softly, he said, "We need to talk, you and I."

It was only when Yazoo nodded, his eyes never wavering as he stared long into Cloud's face, that Cloud finally saw just how far Yazoo's grown. The way Yazoo politely thanked the doctors that treated him, the way he asked Cloud to find an umbrella, a jacket, anything that would warn off the rain from his newly plastered legs and the bag of brightly wrapped candies he pulled from a pocket of his told Cloud more about Yazoo's character then anything Vincent told him on their walk through Scar, to the hospital. The desire to be different than his brothers, than even Sephiroth himself, was evident and flared almost, each and every time Yazoo smiled in gratitude and in joy. For once, Cloud thought that it was going to be okay.

The elevator was inlaid with mirrors and standing there, holding onto the handles of Yazoo's wheelchair , Cloud could catch reflections of Yazoo's face everywhere he turned to look. He took a breath and letting it escape his mouth, he lowered his gaze to stare directly at the top of Yazoo's bowed, silver haired head.

"Yazoo, I want to show you where your brother is."  
--


	15. rain's scar III: elevation

_Author's notes: Mature content at the end of said chapter.. Do me a favor and read this part while listening to "For the Widows in Paradise, for the fatherless in Ypsilanti" by Sufjan Stevens and "Cannonball" by Damien Rice._

**rain's scar  
III: elevation**

They were sitting close to each other, his hand placed lightly against her thigh and the other touching the nape of her neck. Instinctively, she wanted to squeeze her legs shut and move her stool further away from Reno's emerald eyes and the way he was staring at her over the tops of their empty beer bottles. But something even more reckless then Reno's half smile was the desire she had to keep feeling human hands touching her, caressing bits of herself just like that. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she was not just desired, but needed. She was needed to keep Reno drinking glasses of water between his beers, needed to laugh at all his stupid jokes and needed to lean, just a tiny bit, closer to Reno's draped figure.

Rude watched them, from the table next to theirs, keeping one hand on top of the cigarette carton that sat near the tall, frosted glass of beer. Even with the heavy curtain of smoke that lingered above his head and through the whole bar, he could see them sitting like that, her shoulders relaxed and arms wide, as if ready to hold onto Reno at any second. His eyes were not as bright as Vincent's and Reno cut a much rougher, coarse figure then the slender, tortured man, but what Reno offered was something Vincent could not; love and lust. Rude could see the primal, animal needs of Yuffie awakening in the touch of Reno's hands and throwing back his head to drown the glass of beer, Rude smiled inwardly. This was Reno's chance to find what he always wanted; peace.

He could find it in Yuffie's overwhelming desire to be wanted.

The bar's door open and before any of them could react, a hand crashed against Reno's face, causing the red-haired man to stagger off his stool and onto his back. Gruff hands reached to pull Yuffie to her feet and before Yuffie could say another word, she was pushed back against the bar's wall.

Reno stood, wiping at the corner of his mouth with the back of his left hand. He lowered his head to spit onto the bar's black and white checkered floor and lifted his eyes again to stare evenly into Vincent's own.

"Ya got a problem?"  
"Yes."

Vincent let fly another fist, which kissed the side of Reno's other cheek and sent him sprawling once more. Rude stood to help Reno to his feet as Yuffie let out a yelp of protest. She couldn't help but feel some sort of joy at knowing for once, Vincent was going to take a stand for something he wanted. _He's fighting for me._ That thought alone was enough to make Yuffie's face glow crimson, her face breaking into a smile of utter content though the bar's musty air. She grabbed a hold of Cid's elbow, pushing the older man out of her way as she hurried to stand behind Vincent's back, holding with one hand a corner of his red cape.

"You don't gotta fight! I'm right –"  
"Stop it, Yuffie."

He shifted his shoulders slightly, and the crimson fell through Yuffie's open fingers. Her eyes widen as she watch the falling of the fabric, how its waterlogged corner drew a trail across the bar's floor, looking like a tear running down a cold, blank face. In that moment, her smile lost its joy and her hands clutched and pulled at empty air.

Cid turned his head to spit at the top of Reno's shoe as Rude adjusted his sunglasses, smoothing the front of his suit with one hand. Vincent turned to glare at Yuffie over his left shoulder, his black hair falling and covering part of his face so she could not see the glare of his eyes.

"I found Yazoo broken and alone. He was hunted within an inch of his life."

She saw the flash of guilt in Reno's green eyes and the sudden tightening of Rude's mouth. Her face broke in two, as if splintered by the sudden realization that gripped her mind. Through the misty smoke, she remembered Yazoo's face, the eyes that were filled too deeply with pain even when he smiled. The red glint of Reno's hair under the musty lights recalled the jam Yazoo ate spoonful after spoonful, complaining how sticky his mouth was after so much sweetness. The table before Yuffie, and the glasses standing like soldiers on top of it, became blurry, as if a veil was thrown over Yuffie's eyes. Her hand fell against her side, striking against her right leg as if it carried a great burden.

When she spoke, it was a whisper that clung to Reno's turned face. "It wasn't them, was it, Vincent?"

Her question was answered in the long tendril of smoke from Cid's open mouth, the smoke curling over their heads like a snake of temptation. His feet scraped against the bar's floor and his shoulders sagged, following his face as he lowered his eyes to gaze evenly at her face, staring long into the brown of her eyes, kissed with gold. His arm reached out to encircle her slight shoulders, his fingers barely glazing the soft of her neck. She shivered at Vincent's touch as the slender man spoke in reply, "I know what it means to be a Turk. It's little better than being a puppet."

"We ain't the only ones."

Reno fixed the collar of his jacket, trying to ignore the glare of Cid's eyes and his fists, curled tight against his side. His face hurt; there was a streak of blood slowly dripping from the right side of his mouth, tasting almost metallic against his chapped lips.

"Ya didn't ask Cloud what he's doing way the fuck out here, huh?"  
--

Hey, hey, hey! This is Marlene! And DENZEL the man! And you got Cloud's voicemail! Yipee! YAY! **Press 1 to leave a message or wait for the tone. Press 5 to leave a numeric page. Beep.** It's me, Vincent. Cloud, when you get this, please call me back. I'm at Scar, waiting. We just – we just want to know where you are. **Beep**  
--

In the semi-darkness of the forest clearing, Yazoo's eyes glimmered bright, even brighter than Cloud's own. In the shadows of the trees, he swore he could see ghosts, long blades stabbing at the haze of night and shattering them into pieces at his feet. The wheelchair sank into the deep, moist earth and already, he could feel the fingers of rust encircling his throne of helplessness. He took one deep breath, a jagged mouthful of air that barely filled his tight lungs and tried to exhale. Instead, his escaped breath became a cough, springing deep from inside of him, like an animal.

The sword in front of him glistened, the sharp blade shimmering through the dark and gloom of the forest.

His shoulders began to shake, slightly at first, then uncontrollably, as his eyes filled with tears. Cloud placed one hand on Yazoo's shaking shoulder, marveling at the slightness of his body, the butterfly bones he could feel and softly said, "He told me, while dying, that he remembered trees and a tiny village filled with stories of werewolves and monsters. I – I wanted his grave to be here."

"This is your home, Yazoo. Do you remember it?"

Yazoo looked up at Cloud then, tears streaming down his face. "My brother's dead?"  
--

Hey, hey, hey! This is Marlene! And DENZEL the man! And you got Cloud's voicemail! Yipee! YAY! **Press 1 to leave a message or wait for the tone. Press 5 to leave a numeric page. Beep.** WHERE THE FUCK YOU AT CLOUD? DON'T YER DO ANYTHING CRAZY! VINCENT AND YUFFIE AND ME NEED TO KNOW WHERE YOU AT! COME ON, ASSHOLE! PICK UP THE PHONE! **Beep  
--**

Cid suggested a search by air, flying the Sierra at the lowest, possible point of elevation. However, all three of them knew that Cloud could bring Yazoo anywhere, especially if he had his motorcycle Fenrir with him. With no way to contact Cloud or to even surmise where they would go, Vincent suggested they wait it out. When Yuffie climbed the steps to her room, she found Reno waiting by her door and before he could even speak, she turned and ran as fast as her legs could manage, jumping down the stairs three at time.

She was scared of what he would say, especially when he was looking at her that way.  
--

Hey, hey, hey! This is Marlene! And DENZEL the man! And you got Cloud's voicemail! Yipee! YAY! **Press 1 to leave a message or wait for the tone. Press 5 to leave a numeric page. Beep.** CLOUD! YOU PAIN IN THE ASS! I can't believe you're not picking up. Don't keep Yazoo out in the rain for long, ya know he's a pansy and gets sick easily. We're at this inn called Tavern on the Side, right near the hospital! Come on, I'll even buy ya' all dinner! **Beep**  
--  
_(warning: mature content to follow!)_

They stood watching the rain, her head barely reaching the top of his shoulder. The inn was silent, even though it was barely six. All other sounds, of chatter and of talk, were muffled by the sounds of the impending storm; the grey churl of the clouds and the wind pounding against the windows promised just for a few minutes, a piece of a private world.

When she spoke, her voice echoed around the room, making the light shift with her words.

"Vincent – Cloud wouldn't?"  
"I don't know, Yuffie."

She reached for his hand, and felt the warmth that danced in his fingers. And when she gently held his hand against her own, her palm kissing his, he turned to look down at her, his red eyes filled with doubt. His lips were a straight line against his face, betraying no emotion though the way his eyes studied her face spoke of pain. She could feel his body shaking, as if his demons were tearing into his body, begging to go out into the night and hunt. In the depths of his eyes, she saw his mind, as fractured and broken as Yazoo. And when she spoke, her words were meant to comfort herself as much as it was meant to ease Vincent's fears.

"Cloud don't follow no orders, so Rufus can't get to him, you know that, right? He ain't that messed up. Yazoo's nothing like Sephiroth. Bet you those two just gonna waltz on in here, Cloud complaining bout the rain and Yazoo being stupid and asking what rain is and –"

Her words were cut off as Vincent leaned forward to press his lips against her own, a slight flutter of warmth that pressed against her mouth. His claw ran through the strands of her hair gently as he stood back, his eyes softening.

"I just feel like I've been holding my breath, this whole time."  
"Then let it out."

He held her, at an arm's length, as if surveying her slight body in the crook of his arm. Her eyes asked the question. And then with a rush of desire he never let himself surrender to, he pulled her to him and found, in her kiss and the neck she offered his mouth, her willing, ready. His body ached for warmth, for touch and she leaned into him as they kissed and kissed, her hands intertwined behind his head, her fingers holding onto strands of his long black hair. Her body yielded to his touch, the way his hands ran themselves over the flat of her stomach, pulling her shirt over her head.

Her eyes never closed as they fell to the floor, wrapped against each other. He folded and unfolded before her, his body glistening white in the lamplight, a flower blossoming in a slow motion. His voice was a whisper against her ear as she whimpered and clung to his body, feeling for the first time how broad his shoulders were. They fell in rhythm with each other, sighing and moaning and her back lifted off the floor to meet him, to fill herself with the most human part of his self. Her eyes filled with tears as she held onto him, as if at any moment it'll end as wave after wave of pleasure and love and desire and pain and everything Vincent kept bottled deep inside filled every part of her body and her mind.

She kissed his closed eyes and felt tears there, escaping down his cheeks to fall against her neck. He buried his face into her chest and she held him there when with one long sigh, he released the breath he held for years, bringing back to life the person he left behind so long ago. His body suddenly fell limp against hers and she cradled his head, gently lifting the strands of hair that clung to his sweaty shoulders. Her fingers kissed his eyes, wiping away the tears that still fell as he clung to her, catching the soft of her neck in his mouth. His and her breathing, in heavy pants, filled the room. He tried to move away from her then, as if he suddenly remembered what they did and where they were – interlaced legs and wrapped arms, her back naked and pressed against the carpeted floor.

But before he could move, she held him closer, taking a deep breath of the scent of his hair, the way it smelled of musty air and wine, her fingers trailing to touch each vertebrate of his spine. She caught the tip of his ear in the folds of her mouth and gently whispered, "Even if you can't save Yazoo, don't mean you can't save yourself."

They held onto each other to warn off the darkness that crawled from the corners of the room, the lamplight slicing Vincent's bare back into jagged sections. His breath against her lifted pieces of her hair that clung to her cheeks. He held her hand and gently lifted it to kiss the inside of her wrist, feeing her pulse push against his lips. Her stomach rose and fell in rhythm to his own breaths and at that moment, she marveled at his beauty and the way, for the first time, he looked so completely human. She swallowed once, twice and knew she had bits of his heart and his shattered soul caught in her mouth. She could not recall the taste of cigarettes, beer or even mango gum. What she tasted was Vincent, all of him, the darkness and the bits of him that taste exactly like the mountains of her home.

When he laid his cheek against her collarbone, nesting his face into her hair, he spoke again, just a whisper, "Yuffie, I –"

"You don't got to say nothing. Not now."

They laid there, in silence, as if waiting for the darkness to recede back into the corners of their minds, wrapped tight in the shadows that draped over their bodies. With her fingers, she opened up his fist, until she could see his palm and gently placed her fingers against his, her pulse against his. His hand was cupped around her chin and slowly she looked up at him, only to kiss again. His body fell into the open caress of her arms, her toes gently slid against his legs, her fingers drifting from his hands to his hair, to the broadness of his shoulders. She let one hand fall from her hold on his body, and grasped the sheet on the bed above them. In one movement, like an escaped breath, she pulled the blanket off the bed and covered both of their bodies from the lamp light and the glare of the streets outside the window.

His breaths rose and rose as he laid his cheek against her body, hearing the pulse of her heart and the breaths that stirred his hair. He cried, tears skimming past his eyes to fall against her body, bathed in the light. His shoulders shook, fragile bones that seemed as if they would break under her hands if she held him too tight. She held him, as close as she could, holding tight his body when she felt how broken he was, deep under the beauty of his black hair and red, red eyes.

"I'm sorry –" His words were hoarse, spoken in a whisper that danced on the edge of urgency. He encircled her slight body with both of his arms, his claw skimming her slender back. "- Yuffie, you shouldn't - I can't –"

"It's okay." Her hands gently stroked his hair, pulling apart the tangles nestled deep in his dark strands, her fingers wiping away the sweat that glistened on his forehead, her palm quietly drinking his tears from his cheeks. "You don't have to say it-"

She kissed his forehead. "This enough for me, Vincent." He was no demon and closing her eyes, she lowered her hand stroke the small of his back. "Trust in him -"

"And in me too, Vincent."

His body against hers was warm, nothing like the doom and gloom his gothic exterior suggested. Completely naked, pressed against her body, Yuffie saw, without a doubt that Vincent was indeed whole, if just a bit shattered. He was capable of life. She could feel his breaths slowing, the hand he kept against her heart, feeling its beating. She tilted her head to lay gently on top of Vincent's own, feeling the damp strands of his hair, waterlogged this time not by rainfall, but by his own sweat and let her hands wrap against the back of his head.

"Hey."  
"Yes, Yuffie?"

"Happy birthday."

He lifted his head from its resting place among her arms and chest and stared at her for a long while, not saying a word. And then he kissed her again, his hands reaching for her. They kissed and kissed, rolling around the floor, the blanket like a snake following their entwined bodies. A tear clung to her eyelash, and her shoulders shook with the gravity of her love for him, tasting like rain. She leaned her head back and let her love consume her, consume them both, holding onto his shoulders and lifting herself to meet him halfway, again and again, touching his lips, his forehead, his chest with her hands, her mouth, her heart. She engraved the way he looked, his eyes never leaving her own, deep into her memory, rubbing in deep the scent of him into her own body as they sighed and whimpered and clung together. And when her hands brushed against his hair, her fingers glazing the back of his neck, he laughed, freely, openly, kissing away the tears that escaped from her eyes.

It was a song to her ears.  
--

Cloud's hand rummaged through the pocket his black jacket, until his fingers ran across the smooth handle of the pocketknife he always carried. Yazoo lowered his head and his tears fell in the same rhythm of rain. His emotions were as free and as wild as Denzel's, with none of the bitterness that Cloud harbored deep inside himself.

The pocketknife's blade sang as it sliced through the air and the only sound that followed was one long scream from Yazoo's mouth, muffled by the interweaving trees above head.

"No!"  
--

_Author's Notes pt. 2:_ _Told you this gets intense. I've been trying to build up the sexual tension between Vincent and Yuffie since way back in chapter 6 and always wanted to have a scene between them that is intimate but also, filled with a lot of sadness. I don't think Vincent could ever be that close and that intimate to another person without feeling the ramifications of his past, and the long hours he spent in solitude. It's got to be like what, almost 3 decades since he was put to sleep? I wanted the love scene to be a sudden occurrence, without any warning that it might happen because of the way I created Yuffie and Vincent's attitudes in my story; Yuffie is not only in love with Vincent, but she also lusts for him and Vincent's seriously in need of human touch and interaction. _

_I was hesitant to put a love scene because I know there are some people who are reading my story that aren't Yuffietine fans. I was hoping that I can write a story that can focus on the development of their relationship but also have a story that's interesting for other reasons as well. So basically all I'm saying is, DON'T STOP READING MY STORY IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE PAIRING! (It hurts my feelings. :-D) _

_Yay for updates though! I'm so glad I finally got to update my story for all of you guys. Please keep reviewing and who knows how crazy the next chapter's going to be! (Or when I will update it!) Thanks again! Also, rain's scar will have a fourth part, as opposed to the original three parts I planned for it. _


	16. rain's scar IV: secret

**rain's scar  
IV: secret**

She staggered, clutching her stomach with one hand. She could feel the warmth of her blood as it steeped through her shirt, running over his fingers. Anyone, she needed to find anyone who could help and yet, in the darkness of the forest and the grey of the sky, all she could hear was his own breathing. A rip, a tear, and she fell, clutching a fistful of dirt as above her head, the trees whirled over and over, their branches entwined and their leaves making sounds like whispers.

What oozed from the gash on her side flowed like a river to kiss the earth beneath him.  
--

In a room lit by the glare of only a lamp, Vincent clutched his knees to his chest, burying his chin into the tiny crevice between his chest and his raised knees. He could smell the steam of the shower he just took, his damp hair clinging to his bare shoulders. Shifting his body slightly from his perch at the end of one of two twin beds in the room, the towel on his head slipped just a little, revealing his eyes, shaded with doubt.

He watched her sleeping, the way she curled into an almost complete circle, how her breath stirred the bangs that caressed her cheek, following the rhythm of the rise and fall of her chest. Even when he closed his eyes, he could still see her, the white of her shoulders, the light that danced in her eyes and her hands reaching for him, grabbing for his body to guide him closer and closer to all the things she kept secret inside her. There were the sounds of laughter drifting from the hallway, the scent of spilled beer and tobacco, and he lifted a hand to brush away the lingering smells, invading from underneath the threshold of their locked door.

_What am I doing? Who the hell do I think I am?_

Over and over in his head, like a web crisscrossing from every corner of his mind, came his thoughts, his trademark pessimism and the unshakable feeling of self-hate. What darkness and shadows and a room that smelled of hate could do to you was to scar you for the rest of your life, until the tiny burdens you carried became phantoms that nailed themselves to your feet. He could only stare at her, trying to forget what it meant to sleep in that coffin, that self punishment he inflicted upon himself. His breathing became jagged as his thoughts became more disorientated, spinning and cutting into one another without warning.

_What Yuffie wants is love; what if I can't give that to her?_

If time was real, if time could be measured in the nightmares he had in Shin-Ra mansion and the long scratches he tore into the underside of his arms, if time was real and if he could die then what he and Yuffie just did, folding and unfolding against and with one another, was wrong, a sin.

_I have no love in me._

Just one more sin for his shoulders to carry.

He let desire control him, and now look at where he was; sitting alone watching her sleep and regretting he ever let her in, drawing her close enough so she could dismantled the cloak and the metal and all the armor he wore to protect himself. What she wanted, he wasn't sure he could give. His mind was a hazy crisscross of thoughts and alternating feelings of hope and utter despair.

He let desire control him, and now look at where he was; sitting alone, watching her fast asleep, too scared to hold with her in the grip of his arms, undeserving of the single taste of life that rose, again and again, to embrace his half-dead self.  
--

Her nails were streaked with dirt as she tore her way out of the forest, following a beam of light that emitted from the lamp she always put in the tiny attic window of her house. It was a beacon to warn away the darkest of the forest, the pitch and fall of footsteps pounding after her, following her very steps. The long strands of her hair fell from her braid, curling over her shoulders as she half ran, half crawled to her house, cursing her father and all his stories of werewolves and monsters. The light seemed to waver in front of her eyes.

Strong arms encircled her, and she screamed, reaching up to slam her fists against the older man's chest. Her tears fell rapidly mixing with the rain overhead as she glared up at the black hooded man. There was nothing but shadow and to this fear she ripped and tore at him, morphing into a wolf with desperate eyes.

"Lila! What are you doing here?"

She heard the voice of her neighbor, an older man with eyes of coal. Her breaths came in hurried pants, and she held onto him with both arms.

"Where's Daddy? Where's Daddy?"

Lila sobbed into his shoulder, trying to erase the scene of blood and silver that she stumbled upon deep in the forest. Her feet were scratched with thorns and the bristles that tore against the soft of her ankles and in her eyes was a metallic glimmer, the phantoms of the lighting that jagged over the sky above.

He could barely keep her steady, could barely keep his hands wrapped around her in a safe grip as he half dragged her, half carried her to his house. His wife turned from the stove, dropping the ladle she held in one hand as she glanced at Lila's screaming, crying figure. The clank of the metal striking against the floor matched her footsteps as she ran to where he stood, holding Lila in his open hands.

"What happened? Why is –"  
"Simon at work? Call up The Tavern!"

They scrambled to put Lila in bed, running for the phone and bringing her blankets to keep the slender girl from shivering. And still, under the heavy sway of her own terror, Lila clutched her hands over her mouth, willing herself to cut off the deep screams that erupted from inside.

Her eyes were blinded by the memory of crimson and the glare of silver, striking against the moon and cutting the air around her into tiny fragments.  
--

Midnight rolled around with the sudden ceasing of the rain. He kept his fingers wrapped around his cigarette, trying to ignore the pain that seared to his shoulder when he did so. Perhaps it was the fact he spent the last three hours down at the bar, his left hand cupping his face, both elbows propped against the bar's counter or the three hours before that, where he sat in his room, alone and chain smoking, trying to ignore the auspicious sounds that were heard from next door.

Not that it really bothered him. Cid took a long drag of perhaps his sixth cigarette of the night, washing away the taste of tobacco with the last dredges of his beer. In fact, what bothered him the most was that the gun holster he spent two weeks making, piecing together straps of leather Shera embroidered with the edge of a very sharp knife and engraving Vincent's initials in silver all along the top, made a rather pitiful birthday present compared to what Yuffie gave him, and probably is still giving him, in a tiny, locked room upstairs, sheltered by rain and the glimmer of a single lamp.

What also made his beer bitter and his body craving for the kiss of tobacco was that fact that midnight has just descended on Scar and still, there was no sign of Yazoo or Cloud.

_Aw fuck._

His thought made him burst out into a hearty chuckle and to ease the strain of his eyes, watching the seconds tick endlessly away, he thought of all the things he was going to say to Vincent once morning came.

He'll probably start with a downright, _told you so_ to a _how'd that feel, Vinnie-boy?_ and end it with a _so you like 'em young, huh?_ He'll accompany all this with various headlocks, shoulder punches and whistling the moment he sees the slender man who, Cid was positive, would either be completely silent as a means to protect his forlorn image or would be blushing a color as fiercely red as his own eyes.

Cid laughed again, remembering the first time Vincent and Yuffie met, way down in Shin-Ra mansion. How everyone was either edging away from the gothic man (Cid was almost out of the door by the time Vincent finished speaking) or wiping away tears of sympathy with a discreet hand (Cid swore he heard Tifa mumble something about how life was never fair). Yuffie however threw her arms over her head and yawned, causing Vincent to almost stumble from his perch atop his own coffin. Scratching the side of her nose with a furious hand, Yuffie stomped her foot and declared, "You done? We can't stay here forever --- there's an adventure we gots to go on!"

_There's an adventure we gots to go on._

A year can change so much. Cid gently lowered the cigarette he was smoking, grinding its lit end against the cold metal of his ashtray. Back then, all Cid wanted was to get his pride back, have a few cigarettes on the way and piss a high arc into the sky. Now he was counting down seconds and thinking of Shera and their child. What he knew back then was everything he doubted now.

_What if all my adventures are done? _But no matter how much he swore and how quickly he drank his beer, Cid could not help but smile at the thought of holding a living, breathing baby in the confines of his heavily callous hands. Pretty soon, he would have to wipe clean the traces of oil and diesel that clung to his wrists, hiding underneath his fingernails.

Cid's thoughts were broken when someone screamed. "SIMON! LILA – LILA'S HURT!" The bartender, who served Cid open beers all night with a rueful smile and an encouragement for him to go to sleep, lifted his head form the glasses he was cleaning, his eyes already wide with fear and anger.

"Goddamn foreigner." Cid could hear the anger, the spit curling around Simon's half opened mouth and titled his head to listen to the half screaming, half whispering conversation.

"Goddamn Midgar and their fucking –"

His beer bottle fell to the floor and his stool followed as Cid ran from the bar, stumbling his way through the inn's lobby. He took the stairs, three at time, forgetting that in one hand, he carried a crushed cigarette that scattered delicately grey ash with his every step.  
--

Carefully securing the buckles of his boots with one firm hand, Vincent tried to ignore the curtain of hair, now half dry, falling into his face, and the silted image of a sleeping Yuffie that awaited him beyond that. He stood, pulling back his hair with one frustrated hand, his claw searching through his pockets for a rubber band. Outside, the rain was just a drizzle, barely making streaks against the window pane and the light that glowed was the moon, high in the sky.

He studied Yuffie's sleeping figure for just a moment, the lamp striking against her shoulders and her slight back, making shadows of mountains all along her raised vertebrate. For all her wild talk and insane gestures, she was actually quite fragile; Vincent briefly laid his hand against the small of her back, feeling through the blanket her regular breathing. He lowered his head, as if to incline it forward, to have his lips kiss where his palm lay and the pain in his eyes were absolute.

Tomorrow morning, he'll tell her to forget it all, everything and especially the way he laughed at the sight of her tears, the first sign of her devotion to him. He trembled, shaking off the feelings of regret and sorrow that clung to his shoulders, his familiar demons, and tried hard to recall Lucrecia and the love they created in a back room of Shin-Ra mansion, a room with no windows or even a lamp. He tried to remember Lucrecia's skin against his own, her fingers working their way to embed deep in his heart.

A knock sliced the air, and even before Vincent could fully cover Yuffie's figure with the blanket, even before he could button his shirt and turn off the lamp to shroud them all in darkness, Cid burst into the room, screaming,

"GET YER ASSES UP!"  
--

The darkness of the forest was the kind that stumbles and clings. She was breathing hard, even barely before they reached a good three feet into the forest. The tree branches that rose from the ground, like fingers, seemed to hold onto her feet, begging her to stay where she was.

This time, when she tripped, his hand wrapped gently against her elbow and held her steady. She could almost feel the heat that radiated from him, how close he was to her half standing, half crouching figure and remembered, with a blush she hoped the darkness covered, the weight of his body against hers.

She wiped the dirt that clung to her face with the back of one hand, and grinned up at Vincent's lowered glaze. She shook off his hand upon her elbow and gestured with the flick of her head to the branches above her head.

"Find him."

The moment his words left his mouth, she sprang lightly up into the air, grabbing a branch with one hand and nimbly flipped herself up. What she cried down to him was lost in a whirl of wind and thunder and was gone, like a memory, jumping from branch to branch.

Sometimes, he forgot she was raised to be a ninja even before she knew what it meant to be herself.  
--

Perhaps it was because Godo never let her have a stuffed animal, instead pressing into her four year old hands a satchel filled with throwing stars, was what drew her to the glittery lights of the Gold Saucer. Right after dinner, she was the first to lace up her sneakers and follow the sounds of sirens, announcing victories and jackpots and the groans of phantom players. Back then, she didn't know anyone by name, tagging along because she had nothing else to do. Back then, when she saw him standing in front of a slot machine, she almost turned sharply on her heel and ran the other way.

She was taught to respect warriors, most of all the wandering who knew only of dust and long roads. From the moment she first met him, she knew that he was a warrior of such high caliber that the samurai of Wutai would have bowed their heads and cover their eyes with the back of their hands if he walked past them, his hands clutching the shadow of swords, dripped with the silver remains of faded blood. Because she knew what a warrior was, she paused in mid-step, staring almost frighteningly at him, his hands loosely held against the warm glass of the slot machine. But then he turned to her, smiling. She remembered how brilliant blue his eyes were, how they caught the reflection of the neon lights overhead. Back then, she didn't know what it meant when he smiled like that, moving aside to make room for her.

His smile was wide, open and in it, she could see the wide fields of grass he grew up in cast with the shadows of mountains. He held up a single gil coin, offering to her in the flat of his palm and she stared at the raised landscape of his blisters and bandages wrapped over and over his fingers.

"I bet you have better luck then I do."

Yuffie remembered the way Cloud laughed when the machine suddenly flared up in blue and gold light, only to drop a stuffed Moggle in the basket underneath the slot. He told her, scratching his head in an almost defeated way, that he never wanted to win money. She remembered more then just the doll he gave her, or the doughnuts they ate, shimmering with oil and sugar, or even the way he blamed her for losing all their money on a single race. What she remembered most was the fact that he was happy.

Happy, without a trace of guilt or longing or memory.

It seemed so long ago, and this memory of him was what she pressed close to her, smelling the sugar of the doughnuts, the new neon scent of light and Cloud's unabashed smile.

When her feet touched lightly against the wet ground of the forest, she saw first the collapsed metal of the wheelchair, one side completely caved in, the other cleaved in two. The single remaining wheel spun in circles over and over as Yuffie loosed the straps that kept her shuriken tied tightly across her back. There were footsteps circling the clearing, and three branches, bent in half, spoke more about the battle then even the traces of blood Yuffie could see, splattered across the wheelchair like rain.

She prepared to run back to where Vincent and Cid was, or maybe even trace the footsteps to wherever they led when she heard first a soft cry.

First there was the mud, as it clung to her feet as she ran to where he laid, his face half coated with dirt and tears. Then there was her voice, screaming for Vincent, for anyone and then there was his hand, as it trembled to touch her face.

She held closer the memory of his unblemished happiness, and the day it finally broken leaving him behind, completely shattered. She held him in his arms, trying to cradle his head in her slight hands; the blood pouring from a jagged gash cut deep into his stomach was like handprint against her clothes.

Cloud was a warrior and she did not know how to stop his shoulders from shaking, his face from collapsing in upon itself and his eyes from staring deep into her own, as if searching and searching for something he could not see, let alone name.

What she knew was to hold him, not letting his head fall back into the mud. He spoke, just once before he fell into darkness.

"I didn't…"  
--

When they finally stumbled into the clearing, Yuffie already took off her sweater and covered Cloud's stomach with it, her eyes staring at the swell and cut of his right shoulder. She feared, even with her untrained eye, that not just his right shoulder, but also his forearm, was broken She looked up at Vincent as they approached, Cid's cigarette smoke forming halos above their heads.

Vincent crouched over Cloud's body, removing his cloak to cover him as Cid squinted hard at the broken wheelchair, not wanting to believe what he saw.

Yazoo was nowhere to be found.  
--

_author's notes: thank you so much for the reviews. i'm a terrible author, baiting my audience like this, but.. well.. I think I ended this chapter rather nicely. get ready for it, tergiversation's going to get a whole lot darker in the upcoming chapters before breaking into utter fluff -- well sorta. Anyone want to volunteer what exactly happened in the forest? I would love to know what you guys are thinking. Keep reviewing and also, please be paitent with me. College is a bit hetic right now, but once I do update it's going to be a good one. :-) _


	17. when there was only you and I

_A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it. - George Moore_

**when there was only you and I**

When they brought him, broken and bleeding, to the hospital, the nurses almost recoiled from the sight of so much blood and the blue tinge of his face. They stood, hovering phantoms of white, over his unconscious body before she let loose, her voice raising to string together a curse of swears that made Cid's mouth hang open in surprise.

The nurses wheeled him away, as she collapsed in a chair, her face already breaking into tears. Cid turned to leave the two of them alone, contenting himself on watching the blurry faces alit on the overhead television.

When he placed a hand against her shoulder, she turned to him, quietly mouthing out a word of thanks. She gently laid her cheek on it, kissing the back of his hand with her tear stained skin. He noticed how slender her shoulders were, how her slight body barely took up half of the chair she sat in and pulled her closer to him, bringing her body close to his. He tried to ignore the sudden flash of Cid's thumb as the gruff man shot a gesture of his approval their way, though he could not help but smile slightly at the sight of Cid's good humor even at time like this.

She felt so light, pressed against the curve of his hunched shoulders and her hair yielded to his fingers, blossoming in his hand. He would have to save his words of doubt and regret for another day.

She cried enough for all of them, though his own eyes were blurred and his head seem to spin every time he tried to recall the memory of Yazoo's smiling face. His hands were clasped over her shoulders, metal against flesh, as she leaned in close, as if to melt into him to take away the pain.  
--

"I told you, didn't I? Since the fall of Shin-ra, Midgar can't be trusted!"  
"Simon's daughter, you know Lila? Heard she was raped by one of them."

"No way! That's sick, she's like a fucking kid."  
"Ya can't trust nothing that comes out of that place."

"Let's get them the fuck out of here."  
"Fuck yeah."  
_--_

It was her footstep on the very last stair that made him abandon his perch from the top of the staircase and run as fast as he could, his feet slamming against the wooden stairs with the force of a thunderclap. Before she could slip out of the door, he wrapped both hands around her, burying his face in the pit of her stomach.

Her eyes widen, and then, quietly, the front door closed and her hands lifted to settle lightly against his lowered head.

"What you doing up?"

His face was an echo of all the doubts and fears she kept hidden in the darkest corners of her mind and buried underneath her calm smile and quiet voice. His eyes, in the darkness, flashed like Cloud's own.

"How come I can't go, Tifa?"

She remembered his voice, sounding just like this at Christmas time, begging for a new bicycle, capable of climbing up all the hills around Edge. He tugged at her hand, and only then she saw the tears that glistened around his eyes.

"Please, you gotta let me!"

Tifa held Denzel as tightly as she could, trying to embrace the overwhelming sadness that emitted from them both. He smelled of the wax of crayons, the bark and bite of the wooden sticks he strapped across his back, swords that he swore could cut down the monsters that lurked from the corners in his mind. The t-shirt he wore could barely conceal the raised landscape of his spine, the shoulders blades that were a knot of unfurled wings.

"Please!"

He never cried, even when he stumbled upon her sitting forlornly at the bar, wiping clean the same glass. When Cloud's call came once a day, then every other day then ceased to come all together, Denzel was the one who found the strength to call his phone, leaving messages that told Cloud all about his day at school, his starting position on the soccer team and how lonely 7th Heaven was without him. He gave up sleeping by himself, and instead fell asleep curled in Tifa's arms, the two of them curled up in the armchair, the television softly muted and flashing a light blue over both of their faces. In the morning, when Tifa was too weighed down by her own thoughts, Denzel quietly made breakfast the best he could, making toast and tea and serving it to her with a bright smile. Denzel, her little solider.

She kneeled, her eyes staring deeply into Denzel's own. When she smiled, nodding her head, he fell into her arms, hugging her tightly. Tifa inhaled deeply, breathing the scent of his hair and the way he smelled of home, even this far away.

"We'll bring Cloud back together, okay?"  
"'Kay!"  
--

He believed in family, that's why he married her.

Cid thought about the coincides that lead him to be where he was right now, twisting his wedding ring over and over with his hand, staring at the shadows of Vincent and Yuffie as they slept fretfully throughout the long night, their bodies pressed against one another in a show of affection that would never occur if both was awake. His back hurt from sitting so long in the armchair of the hospital, the coffee he drank in disappointed sips tasting like lead and dirt as the clock marched relentlessly on.

Yuffie, when asleep, radiated a joy that even the sight of Cloud's broken body could not mar. With his eyes closed, hair falling across his face and gently touching Yuffie's cheek, Vincent looked so young, and for the first time, Cid realized how at peace he looked. What nightmares bothered him now?

He missed his wife and how Shera would have known the right things to say at a moment like this. Cid crossed his ankles, lifting his head to stare up at the now static television.

Because he believed in family, he knew that everything was going to be okay.

Yet he could not help but keep his spear, its sharp metal head wrapped over and over in cloth, in his lap, one hand clutched around its handle. She slept with her throwing knives strapped to her waist and at Vincent's hip, shone the flash and gleam of his gun.

The clock marched relentlessly on, and Cid, dying for a cigarette, could not help but count the seconds as they marched on, the shadow of the clock dancing across his upturned face.  
--

Crashed and burned, twice in one day. Reno let out a puff of smoke that seemed to linger over only his lowered head, completely disregarding the still figure of Rude beside him. They stood, backs pressed against the wall of the hospital and barely covered by the umbrella Rude faithfully held in one hand.

Reno turned his head from side to side, trying to ignore the sudden flare of pain that danced across his cheeks as he did so. It was a well known fact, almost a legend really, among the Turks that Vincent Valentine was one of the organization's first members and had barely managed to pass the physical exams. If not for his marksmanship, Vincent would never have ascended to the rank of a Turk.

Reno knew all this, being well versed in the background of each AVANLANCHE member and the knowledge of Vincent's supposed physical weakness was not comfortingly as he gingerly fingered the bruise that danced across his cheek like a kiss, a lick of fire that stung each time he moved his face.

He could feel the bruises that laced up and down his side like a braid of pain, and his bottom lip was swollen. What hurt the most was the look of Yuffie's face as she ran from him, tugging at Vincent's hand as she did so.

Reno took a long inhale of his cigarette, trying to forget the taste of her pressed against his lips, substituting the fruit and flesh taste of her with hot tobacco.

He coughed and Reno looked up in time to see the crowd, three or four men, barely as old as Yuffie, banishing heavy clubs and knives that shone in the near dawn.

"What the fuck you suits doing here?"

The one who spoke had a scar like a smile across his forehead and Reno flicked his cigarette's ashes towards it, as if baptizing the boy with grey smoke. They were going to attack first, but Rude lowered the umbrella and jammed the handle deep into the pit of the scarred boy's stomach.

"Yo, ya don't wanna be messin with me today." His heel stamped out the tiny flare of his cigarette, grinding it into the ground as he lifted his eyes to stare into each of the boys' faces.

"I had a pretty shitty day, ya know."

Rude coughed again and fixed his sunglasses with one finger. He didn't have to speak, or do anything really, as Reno systematically stared down each of the boys, grabbing a hold of the smallest one by the collar of his shirt.

"Ain't no big deal beating the shit out of you!" Reno lifted his fist to punch the boy when suddenly he worked his mouth and spat in Reno's eye.

"FUCKING MIDGAR!" The boys ran off, scrambling over each other's legs and feet as Reno sighed and wiped away the river of mucus that ran down his cheek.

"Don't they know Rufus the only one who gives two shits about this goddamn hellhole?" Reno kicked at the wall of the hospital, and turned to Rude, his face an unreadable blank "What the fuck we doing here, Rude?"

Rude reached out, just one hand, to clasp Reno's shoulder in comfort. His fingers sank perhaps a bit too harshly against the soft of his skin, but Reno smiled and flexed his arms high over his head.

"You chicken-shit Reno?"  
"Hell no! Rufus knows what he's doing."

"Ya still crying over that Wutai girl?"  
"Hell no! Bigger fish to fry, ya know."

Rude chuckled, though he knew, like Reno's words, that in the end, it was as fake as the glare of the neon light overhead, promising sanctuary and warmth.  
--

Four days at Scar.

Four days of ramen noodles half cooked, and coffee that tasted of dirt and lead, four nights of sleeping cramped in armchairs and spread out in the waiting room of the hospital. By the second night, they seen enough pictures of sailboats and fake flowers to last a lifetime.

The people of Scar refused to talk to him, though he barely spoke himself, content on letting Yuffie drag him around by a tight hold of his wrist. Remembering Cloud's proud gait and the way he carried his shoulders, he refused to cast his crimson eyes to the ground instead looking straight at Scar's villagers without shame.

They were walking back to the hospital from the inn on the afternoon of their fourth day in town. The sudden appearance of the sun made her break into a smile that almost cleaved her face in two. She was talking nonstop, waving her packages back and forth and pointing out the sight of swords on display or children running to and fro, banishing sticks that split the afternoon sun into fragments. What was most surprising was how far apart they were, him almost an arm width's length apart from her, his trademark red cloak stuffed deep into one of the brown bags he carried in his hand. It was almost as if he knew that just one touch, one brush against her elbow with the back of his hand, and he'll give in again, trying to find himself warmth in a world of solitude and pain he made up for himself. He will not be a fallen man, once again.

They spoke of Yazoo, of all the shit she's going to give him the moment they found him again. They did not speak even a word of death.  
--

When they came off the elevator, Yuffie's laugh already exploding like a firecracker in the middle of the hospital's waiting room, Cid lifted his head from the cradle he made with his palms, his mouth already working to string together a stream of swears for making him wait all this time for some goddamn food.

But then he saw her, her face awash with the overhead light. He felt more alive than he did for days as he lifted his hands to rub viciously at his eyes, making sure it wasn't a dream.

Before she could speak, he lifted himself from the chair and ran to her, holding her tight in the vise of his arms. Her swelling stomach was the single most beautiful thing he ever felt pressed against him, a tangible promise of life.

She kissed him then, sneaking a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth and brushed away his bangs with the back of her soft hand. He collapsed against her, holding her as if she was a dream that was going to fade away.

Don't fade.  
--

He tugged at Tifa's hand which caused her to stop in mid-step. Her hand was already pressed against the door of Cloud's room, and her eyes shimmered already with the sudden build-up of tears.

She leaned forward to catch his words and instead, he flung his arms over her neck and kissed his cheek. It was a sticky sweet kiss, tasting of the jam he ate with his breakfast this morning as their train pulled into Scar's station. Today she remember, was the first of their three day journey where there was no rain but soft, soft sunlight streaming in from all corners, filling their tiny train compartment with jagged warmth.

And he said, "I'm not ascared to see Cloud."

She held him tightly in her arms, and kissed his forehead lightly before standing up, her face held high and shoulders back, as if to face whatever lay behind the door. His hand in hers was a reminder of all the life and love Cloud left behind, all the things she knew Cloud needed now.

"I'm not either, 'Zel."

They smiled, and with a firm hand, Tifa opened the door and walked in, Denzel's feet making sounds like gunshots as he walked. His shoelaces, untied and curling around his feet like snakes, scrapped against the floor and he clasped her hand tightly, trying as hard as he could to shallow back the fear that clung to him.

In his pocket was the heavy silver ring, with its wolf's head and teeth bared and the touch of it against the soft of his flesh made his face lift high. He wasn't scared.

The door closed behind them with just a single firm slam against its iron frame.  
--

One more day and what happened was that while out buying food to bring back to the hospital, she saw his fire hair from a reflection in the glass window. She gathered her bags together from the counter, the scent of cooked meat and melted cheese almost overwhelming her and turned on her heel, only to see the red she thought was his hair was nothing more but a poster advertising a sale (2 gallons of milk for the price of one).

When she stepped out into the sunshine, the market of Scar swelled around her like a crescendo of sound and human touch. Someone jostled her, elbowing her slightly as if a sign to keep moving, stop staring.

What surprised her the most, really, was how much they touched. Sometimes she'll spy them with their hands crossed in their laps, or his ear gently laid against her stomach, listening for the movement of their child. One time, Yuffie saw, from the corner of her eye, Cid's callous hands, big broad palms more akin to touching cold machinery, running through Shera's long hair, his face more gentle and kind then Yuffie ever remembered it.

She held her bundles closer to her chest and ran off, breaking through the throngs of people and headed to the hospital. Denzel would be really happy with what she brought; she knew from Tifa the little brat suddenly only wanted to eat melted cheese and jam sandwiches.

What she was learning from watching Shera and Cid, from watching Tifa who watched Cloud as he tossed and turned in his own sea of nightmares, was how to love and love fully.

The elevator was too slow, her feet was pounding against the elevator's floor with impatience. And when she stepped into the waiting room, he stood from the chair he sat in and offered a helping hand. She wanted to sneak a kiss against the soft alabaster of his cheek, and when she leaned in to do so, he flinched, his eyes flashing embarrassment. He opened his mouth to apologize but she just waved away his words with the back of her hand, calling for Shera and Cid to eat dinner.

For a brief second, she felt his hand against her hip, and the warmth that flowed from his touch. And then, like a whisper, like a memory, it was gone and Vincent was sitting cross-legged on the floor, opening up sandwiches and swigging beer with Cid.

She watched him eat, crossing and uncrossing her legs, smiling. When he leaned his back so it could barely glaze her legs, she sat still and amused herself with twirling and twirling a lock of Vincent's hair. It felt more than comfortable, it felt right to have Vincent touch her like this, and the warmth of his body that matched the love she had for him.

One more day at Scar and Yuffie was learning what it meant to be in love.  
--

To fall so far only to be jerked back to the waking world with memory and the presence of life that not just surrounds, but also lifts.

And then it was the sudden shift of his weight as he raised his head from the hospital bed, and the hum and click of the machine that for five days breathed for him. It was his mouth, letting loose a grunt of pain as he moved his shoulder and could feel only hard plaster rocking against the crisp white of the bed.

"CLOUD!"

He felt hands clasping tight around his stomach, a boy's head that pressed against the deep cut that jagged like a smile across his chest and the sudden sinking of the boy's tears against the paper thin of his hospital gown.

He could not say his name, but instead placed one hand, still hooked to the IV, against the boy's head, his eyes softening as he felt Denzel's breath and tears and the slight weight of his body against Cloud's own. His hand gently patted Denzel's head as the boy held on, his own tiny hands like leaves pressed against the smooth landscape of Cloud's back.

"Why'd you gotta go, Cloud?"

Denzel lifted his head to meet Cloud's own eyes, the brilliant blue that shone even when no light was on it. His smile that broke across the storm that raged over his face was so sad, Denzel almost mistook it to be a grimace of pain.

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, just a creak that was almost lost to the hum of the machines and the monitors that surrounded his bed, holding vigil over his broken body. "I – I had to, 'Zel."

"Not fair, Cloud." Denzel buried his head against Cloud's shoulder, his hair brushing against Cloud's cheek. His voice was muffled, tight as he spoke, his tears streaking against Cloud's good shoulder. "Not fair to no one."

"'Zel." Cloud lifted his eyes to look past the boy's shoulder.

She stood, one hand clutched around the armchair pulled close to his bed, as if she could not keep herself on her own two feet. Her eyes were soft, and the accepting light that shone from there was warm, warmer than the heat that radiated from the IVs and the monitors, mechanical reminders of the fact that he did not die; he was alive. But he knew this just by the sudden swell of his throat as she moved closer to him, placing one hand against the soft of his cheek.

He closed his eyes, listening to Denzel's crying and feeling, at the same time, Tifa's fingers gently kissing his face, caressing his cheek and something in him broke.

Gently, he rocked Denzel in his arms and cried as well, tears that she wiped away with the back of her hand. When her fingers drifted near his mouth, he kissed them softly and gently brushed his lips against Denzel's forehead.

It was the presence of life that not only surrounds, but also lifts.  
--

Cid closed the door quietly, just so they would not be interrupted. He turned to look at Vincent, surprised at the tears that stung his own eyes, making his gruff voice hoarser, his words barely able to be formed due to the feeling that rose swiftly from his heart to his throat.

He knew Vincent saw what he saw and asked, his face lifted to stare into Vincent's eyes,

"Ya still need proof bout that redemption shit of yours?"  
--

_Author's notes. When I began tergiversation I never intended it to be a story just about Vincent and Yuffie, but also, the story of Denzel, Tifa and Cloud. And then I thought, no fair, I want to elaborate on Cid and Shera as well.. and BOOM! I present you with chapter 17 – **when there was just you and I,** which by the way is also the longest in the story. I hope you all enjoy this – thank you so much for the reviews! My story hit 10,000 hits as of yesterday! Now if only I can break a 100 reviews! I thought after so much drama and darkness a little bit of fluff was needed. Gah, I can't stand how cute Denzel is. I love little kids. I'm such a sap, I almost cried while writing the last bit of this.  
_


	18. canta per me

**canta per me  
**

In all her lifetime, this was perhaps the first time she was struck speechless by what happened. She shifted uneasily from one leg to another, trying to forget the snickers of laughing that came from Cid and Shera who sat behind them, or even the wide grin of Tifa, as she sat holding Cloud's hand, fingers interlaced with his.

Vincent, a tall shadow with hair darker than the pitch of night, stood quietly by Cloud's other side, his crimson eyes watching the scene before him with interest and just a hint of amusement. She looked his way then, and Vincent shifted his head, titling it just a bit. Her eyes drifted to stare at Cloud who, through pale and face drawn in pain, let out a little laugh. Of course, they wouldn't help her out with this. Of course.

She gulped, placing a hand on top of her head and leaned forward to stare into the boy's wide eyes.

"So, erm, whatcha this for?"

Denzel almost dropped the bunch of dandelions he carried in the tight vise of his right hand but then shook his head, lifting the ash blonde hair out of his eyes with his slight movement. For the second time today, he almost couldn't speak, his voice hoarse with the sight of her bright eyes, matching the gleam of the shuriken she kept strapped onto her back.

"Just wanna give you a thank you present, for takin' care of Cloud." He mumbled softly, almost to his own collarbone as Cid let out another howl, pounding the side of his chair with the back of his left fist.

"Nah, don't do that, Cid and Vincent did too." Yuffie reached out to pat Denzel's head when suddenly Denzel thrust the flowers into her face, the green and field smell assailing her nose. "But these just for you."

She blushed, matching the flare of red that danced across Denzel's cheeks and opened her mouth to say something else when Cid, after leaning back into his chair with one arm around Shera's shoulders, happily hooted and pointed to Vincent with his free hand.

"Defend ya woman, VALENTINE!"

"WHAT?" Tifa lifted her eyes to look at Vincent, who wasn't quick enough to hide the sudden embarrassed smile that danced across his face, almost like a reflex, in the crevice of space between his chin and his cloak. At this, Yuffie blushed harder, her face a brilliant red as she took Denzel's tiny bouquet.

"You and Yuf—?" Tifa's mouth lowered in surprise as Cloud smiled weakly, a shadow of the happy grin he usually showed. Instead of answering, Vincent kept staring at the tiny square of wall that he could see between the IVs and the heart monitor next to Cloud's bed.

The laugh started with Shera and was heartily followed by Tifa and Cid as Vincent tried to shade his face with the long strands of his hair and Yuffie stood, wobbling from one foot to another, once more not able to say a word. Even Cloud, sounding more hoarse and weak then he ever did before, laughed softly, phantoms of merriment that circled their heads like halos.

"Wha-?" Denzel stomped his feet, and without a word, left the hospital room, his feet pounding down the hallway. The door swung back and forth with the force of his push as Yuffie spun on her heel to stare accusingly at Cid, her mouth turned into an angry scowl.

"Now look at what ya did!"  
"Ah, don't get yer panties in a bunch."

It was just a sudden stiffening of her shoulders and the way she lowered his hand from her shoulder and Cid literally leaped out of his seat and mumbled, fumbling through his pockets for a cigarette, "Fine, fine, I'll get the kid." He held her hand as she stood, and his fingers wrapped in Shera's own, Cid turned to look at Vincent. "Don't dick around, okay?"

The look that passed between Vincent and Cid had nothing to do with little boys and their big crushes.  
--

He ran blindly and almost tripped into his arms.

"YA WATCH WHERE YA GOING, PIPSQUEAK!"

"Hey, you –" His eyes slanted angrily as he lifted his head only to meet the green fire of Reno's. It didn't help that he was grinning something fierce, his red hair the brightest thing Denzel has seen since staying at the hospital, a shade brighter than even Vincent's cloak.

"Yo, Pip, whatcha headed for?" Reno lightly hugged the boy back as Denzel let out a whoop of joy and strutted his way back, his shoulders held high. There was a proud lift to his face as Denzel offered a closed fist, his small fingers curled tightly into a ball.

Reno leaned forward to pound his fist against Denzel's own as the boy smiled, showing off the gap between his two front teeth.

"Ya see that, Reno? I got into a fight! I got him good." He suddenly shifted his eyes downward, remembering how angry Tifa was and the yard he had to clean up all by himself in punishment. "Cept Marlene won't talk to me 'cause I fought."

"Yea, well, Pip, no duh. Ya know she's gonna get you where it hurts, ya know?"

"Kid, whatta ya getting at here?" He turned in time to see Cid's face, a warped mess of anger before a broad, callous hand seized him by the scruff of his collar and firmly pulled Denzel away from Reno.

"Yo, don't be treating friends like that, ya know?"  
"Friends?"

Her hand gently clasped Denzel's shoulder and looking up, he met Shera's brown eyes, a shade so close to chocolate, he always marveled at the sweetness he found there each time they shared a smile. She gestured her head, motioning to the stack of magazines that stood at a far table, or maybe she meant to gesture downstairs, where the vending machines were. He turned swiftly to stare at the rigid shoulders of Cid, and beyond on, Reno's eyes, flickering flames of green that shimmered and caught the reflection of the overhead light like a jewel.

He took Shera's hand and held it close, remembering the train ride to Scar and how delicate Shera was, how her face always turned a pale shade each morning and her hands cupped the small of her back in a weak attempt to ward off the pain.

It was only when the elevator closed, swallowing his wife and the kid in the confines of chrome and shine, did Cid grabbed a hold of Reno's collar and bodily lifted him a few inches from the floor.

"Ya got some balls, kid, showing ya chicken-ass around here."

And then he saw the look on Reno's face, the truth that etched itself in the straight line of his mouth and the green eyes that never left the contours of Cid's face, kissed be a scruff of a beard.

"How's he doing? Ya know, Cloud."  
"Goddamn, chicken-shit."

Cid lowered Reno and jabbed a finger at one of the armchairs that sat in a row near the door. "Ya better sit yer ass down and tell me everything."  
--

"Reeve called, asking if I was completely at peace. He knows that I can feel Sephiroth's presence, even the smallest bit of it."

His words were erased by the sudden cough that flared into his lungs and exploded like gunshots into the air. Her eyes widen, but his fingers curled tightly over her own, and Yuffie stood still, shifting from one uneasy foot to another, her left side flanked by the long elegance of a silent Vincent.

Cloud took a small sip of the water from the cup Tifa held up to his mouth as she continued, her eyes never leaving Cloud's pale face. "You know Reeve, always thinking about everyone 'cept himself. I didn't know what he was getting at, but Cloud said they all should've disappeared after his second fight with Sephiroth, just like Kadaj did."

She opened her mouth to speak, to protest and to tell of Yazoo's happy, almost childlike joy at the sight of cheery jam and that one night Vincent carried him outside in time to catch the fireflies before the chill of autumn came. His hand felt like a weight in her own and with one glance, her eyes catching the glimmer in Vincent's crimson ones, she closed her mouth and said nothing.

"Expect he didn't." Cloud closed his eyes to lean his face against Tifa's hand as she wiped at the trail of water that dripped from the corner of his mouth. Yuffie felt the gravity of pain, the pain that rendered Cloud's right hand helpless the same that clung and tore at Yazoo's legs. A warrior, maimed for sacrifice.

"Reeve and Rufus were quite…" He coughed, his face flinching at the pain that tore at his stomach. When he spoke again, his voice was just a hoarse caricature of the scream and shout he once had. "…They told me, if any remnants of Sephiroth remained alive then he could come back again and again."

His head fell against the pillow, and it took Vincent pulling at her left hand to stop Yuffie from leaving the corner of the room where they watched, silent witnesses, to Cloud's pain and the tender ministries of Tifa, her eyes never lifting from Cloud's face, even once, to notice them.

She spoke for him, when all his words were gone. "And then Cloud decided to come to Scar, the last place Kadaj spoke of, before he died."

"Where's Yazoo?"

Yuffie lifted her eyes to look at Vincent, and saw the fire in his eyes. She knew he was remembering how loud Yazoo screamed at the sight of blue light, silver light, flickering in the dark of the sky. Standing on tiptoe, she managed to place her free hand against his cheek, leaning her way towards his figure. His eyes soften for just a moment, briefly looking at the concern deep in Yuffie's face, and then gently removed her hand from his face, his claw barely kissing the surface of her palm. He turned back to stare at Cloud, white face against white pillow and the dark curtain of Tifa's hair.

"What did you do to him, Cloud?"  
"There was a shadow that followed. Dark… I threw a knife and he screamed."

In her hand, she could feel the blood pulsing underneath, the sudden rise and fall of his breath. It was the same, that day she saw him in the airship, leather wings of a demon bursting from his shoulders, destroying the singular grace he always had.

"There was blood and Yazoo begged – and begged."

It began with loud breaths and the tightening of his shoulders and hands and the cold flicker of iron in his eyes. Yuffie placed a hand against his shoulder to steady him and as if in reflex, Vincent flinched, casting a half crazed look to his side. He saw only Yuffie there, her eyes bright, watching his face with that same look that colored her cheeks red that night they spent making love on the floor of a forgotten inn, only days before. He summoned every ounce of his strength and willed himself to stop; his breaths grew normal, and his fingers gently relaxed in the gripe of her hand.

"—And still, he didn't stop."

"What?" Her eyes rose swiftly to the hospital bed, almost in synch to the lift of Vincent's face as Cloud opened his eyes, brilliant blue, almost inhuman in his pale, drawn face.

"Loz took him. I don't know where."  
--

"Shera?"  
"Yeah, Vincent?"

"When is the baby due?"  
"December, a month from now."

"I –"  
"Yeah?"

"I promise I'll be there."  
"'Course you will."

She smiled, tilting her head and through the reflection of the window, he saw the kindness that shone from within. "You are, after all, the godfather."  
--

He sat, hands in lap, patiently waiting for her to emerge from the hospital room, her bag stuffed full and overflowing with an extra pair of clothes, his leather gloves and spare rounds of ammunition. He sat, completely still, his nervousness only apparent by the tapping of his feet against the linoleum floor and the rise and fall of his long index finger tapping in rhythm to his footsteps.

What hurt him, tore at his soul, was the youth of Yazoo's face and how he could not recall the sound of his laugh.

A small figure collapsed in the seat next to him, and with a mighty sigh that seemed far too powerful for so small a body, he kicked off his sneakers and threw his arms over his head in a loud stretch. Vincent turned in time to catch a dazzlingly bright, gap toothed smile from Denzel's happy face He held out a closed fist, to which Vincent tilted his head in response. Denzel laughed and said, "Ya pound it, like this."

Lifting Vincent's claw with one hand, Denzel slammed his other fist against the metal knuckles, and if he felt pain, he didn't show it, keeping that bright smile shining across his face.

"Gah, ya really aren't cool, Vincent! That's why she's gonna pick me, not you!"

The door opened, and Denzel slammed his feet back into his sneakers and was running back into the hospital room, already screaming out Cloud's name and the amazing chocolate he brought for him. Vincent watched the little boy as he ran, studying the way his thin shoulders matched the illusion of unfurled wings.

"I told them we'll go buy dinner tonight."

She grabbed at the bag by his feet, hoisting it onto her shoulders as he stood, his cloak silently following his quick movement. His eyes lowered to meet her own, and he spoke, softly.

"Are you sure about this?"  
"Yeah, yeah, ya can't find ya own way outta a book. Ya need a first class ninja like me – we're good at finding crap."

He bent forward, to gently place his good hand against the top of her head. On tiptoes, she could just barely meet his cheek, and softly brushed her lip against the smooth alabaster of his skin. He let her kiss linger for a moment before edging away to stare deep into her eyes.

"Then let's go."  
--

_Author's notes:_ _I need a kid like Denzel in my life. Seriously. Song suggestion for this chapter -- "Canta Per Me" from Yuki Kajura.  
_


	19. misdirection

**misdirection**

"Are you sure?"  
"Gah! What's your problem, Vincent? 'Course I know my way around here."

"We don't have much time to spare –"  
"No duh! Trust me! Come on!"

After a plethora of fights and some minor conversation, she walked in front of him, leading the way and dragging the edge of her shuriken along the ground. She didn't want to walk behind him, she didn't want to be able to look up and catch a sudden glimpse of the faded edges of his cloak follow his footsteps, lifting like tiny flares of lights – star fragments - against the coming of grey twilight.

There were moments when she thought that perhaps she really did not have anything to fear, especially when he kept perfectly still as her lips gently brushed against his cheek at the hospital or the small sigh he exhaled at the sight of her backpack, stuffed only with chocolate and candies, murmuring something softly that ran along the lines of never-ending chatter and hyper-activity.

As if reading her thoughts, he coughed, uncharacteristically breaking the silence, "I also must express my disapproval at you spending –"

She turned sharply on her heel, to fully face him, her cheeks already puffed out in a frustrated sigh, "HEY! We need food, don't we?"

"I hardly call 5 pounds of chocolate food."  
"Dude, I also brought you a book."

But as they walked down the forest, dodging past tree branches and sidestepping fallen stumps, she could feel the distance cleaving the delicate thread between them into pieces so fine, she could swear she could see memories of their moments together floating above her head.

"I never asked for a book."  
"And there's sandwiches too! I brought tons of stuff!"

Only Tifa understood what it meant to claim someone like Vincent for herself, only to wonder again and again if there's anything left in him at all.

"With my money, I may add."  
"YOU GAVE IT TO ME!"

She could see the memories of their moments together floating above her head, entwining only to drift apart, again and again.

"I never did such a thing."  
"YES YOU DID!"

She wondered if she always loved him like this; she remembered him sitting next to her on the gondola at the Golden Saucer, his pale complexion highlighted by the fireworks outside. First, she was struck by how beautiful he was, how her mouth always seemed to be unhinged whenever he spoke just a word to her, how she rambled about everything from the effectiveness of a certain weapon polish to determining what kind of dog/animal was Red really. He met her voice with silence.

"Stop yelling."  
"STOP LYING!"

She wondered when her feelings of infatuation became love; she remembered a room on Rocket Town, next to the kitchen where the sounds of Cid and Shera fighting and then, the silence of a kiss, could be heard. She was running down the steps, searching for someone to go buy food with, when she stumbled upon his semi-conscious figure, his body slowly transforming back to its human, and most beautiful, form. His face was still just a long shadow, cut by horns, and leather wings that flapped angrily in the air. If he was screaming, she heard nothing, feeling only the sense of pain and sympathy that tore at her. It was the way his shoulders were tensed, his black hair sticking wildly in all directions, the feel of the wall against her back as Cid and Cloud pushed her out of the way in their rush to lift Vincent from the floor and carry him to the bedroom, where he could finish his transformation in privacy. At that moment, she feared ever seeing his face again, if all that raged underneath was the stuff of nightmares.

"Yuffie?"  
"WHAT?"

"Where are you going?"  
"Whatcha mean?"

She wondered when she learned what love really meant; she remembered seeing his body slumped completely and utterly defeated at the sight of Lucrecia's spirit/reflection in a cave surrounded by roaring waters. It was because he carried his shoulders so straight, as if carved from stone and the prefect rise of his chin that made her breath rise to meet the fury that tore at her throat. At that moment, she felt no sympathy, like Cloud who stood watching, clutching his arm as if it was Aeris' own and he wanted to drag her away from the darkness of death. She felt no sadness, like Red, who quietly pawed at the ground, thinking of the loss of his tribe and the separation of his own father and mother by the divide of time and life and all the things between. What she felt was rage, her eyes flashing as she stared at Vincent's broken body, his face collapsing in upon itself as Lucrecia told him to leave, again and again.

"We've passed this tree two times already."  
"What?"

Most of all, she wondered if he loved her.

"I thought ninjas never get lost."  
"SHUT UP."

He sighed and turned to her, studying her face from his favorite, over the shoulder glance. She paused in mid-step and stuck out her tongue, lifting a hand to wave it in front of his face. His cape was like red flares following his footsteps and she wanted to reach out and grab one of the tattered, frayed corners, rubbing in deep the journey he traveled for so long, utterly alone.

"You're hopeless."  
"I said shud that trap of yours, Vincent!"

It was how soft his eyes looked as he turned completely to face her, shaking his head. She caught a corner of his cape with one hand, and tugged at it playfully until Vincent told her to stop. She held on, her fingers kissing the tattered strands of red that clung to his frame, and let Vincent lead the way, watching the straight line of his shoulders and the curtain of black hair that seemed to grow darker and darker as the sun faded.

"You've been lying this whole time. You don't really know the way, do you?"  
"Who's the ninja here, you or me?"

"That is exactly my point."

She wondered if his cape was an attempt to mask the pain he still held towards the world, a weak homage to the goth and the gloom of his self-imposed punishment. A coffin of entity; an endless sleep that was broken only by fate and the cocky voice of Cloud, promising a reunion with Sephiroth. It was a whisper, a rumor, but if what she heard was true, Vincent's sins lie far deeper than she would ever care to admit. If it was true, then his sins wove their strands into Cloud's sins, Sephiroth's and her own. She held onto the cape, in a weak attempt to hold some of the pain Vincent carried.

"Let go."  
"You want me to get lost, Vincent? Huh?"

"No. You manage to do that without my help."  
"I SAID SHUT UP."

"Will you let go?"  
"Ya shouldn't be wearin' something that stupid anyway."

"If you hate it so much, then let go."  
"GODDAMN CID! That jerk's makin' you into a wise-ass."

She wondered if he knew he was the only man to touch her. Was sex, the way her back pressed against the carpet by his weight, what made her love real, something so tangible and so untouchable that no phantom, no memory could break it? He seemed to fold and unfold before her, sweating and sighing and inhaling the smell of her, only to have her fade to a tired sleep, waking up to the sounds of Cid's angry yells and a bed that held only her figure, herself alone. She wanted to hate him then, to give up but then she lifted her head to see Vincent watching her, his cheeks a rosy red. He was capable of blushing and in her mind that meant he was capable of love.

"Yuffie, aren't ninjas taught to be quiet?"  
"SHUT UP!"

Most of all, she wondered if he loved her more.  
--

He was a simple man, of simple values and a simple concept of what justice was. When his wife died, he was left with a child startlingly beautiful and another child, grown into a straight manifestation of what his bent shadow once suggested of his past glory. When his oldest son left to study at a university situated at the foothills of Cosmo Canyon, he swore he'll keep his daughter closely guarded. He was a simple man, who knew that in a village surrounded by trees with factories that seemed to have faded to nothing and the women who died at childbirth, inhaling the black smoke, he had to protect his daughter who blossomed overnight.

Crouching by Lila's bed, he kept one hand wrapped in the clutches of her fingers, his eyes never leaving the sight of her bloodied bandages, crisscrossing her way up her throat or how soft her voice was as she asked for another sip of water. Simon was a simple man who knew only one thing; he loved his daughter.  
--

She paused in mid-step, her hand suddenly slipping from Vincent's cape as they approached the house with a single ray of light that beckoned from the upstairs window. Cloud spoke of a girl with long brown hair, a girl who screamed when Loz deflected Cloud's thrown knife and charged for him, a girl who felt the sharp edge of a sword as Cloud threw his body over her, in protection, thinking of Denzel and all his goofy smiles.

"What's wrong?"  
"I don't wanna.."

She coughed and shifted her eyes to stare at Vincent's shoes, the iron tips that caught the flare of the dying sun and the slim contours of his ankles. What she remembered was the pain of Cloud's eyes, how he could feel Lila's tiny body bleeding and broken underneath him.

Yazoo once spoke about his brothers, in a way that made her forget that they ever fought, that one of his own wrapped himself in wings and became a demon of iconic beauty. Silver hair, the green glow of eyes, the war that tore her country apart and render a city of samurai and ninja completely useless; she wanted to believe only Yazoo's story of brothers who stole candy by the handfuls and fell asleep underneath the trees, his eyes averted from her own, as if he too wanted to believe that his childhood of silence and shame was just like a fairytale, the path to better things.

She told Cloud, through a series of half whispered, half ranting phone messages about Yazoo's smile and the way he knew how to get around Vincent's somewhat strict, somewhat ornery nature so there were nights where all they did was sit and drink, or waste time away in front of the fire, folding origami and singing songs, eating chocolates and cakes and sickeningly sweet fruit; if she hadn't told Cloud about Yazoo falling asleep while reading Vincent's books, or the stories he told of his childhood running half wild in some forest as if he escaped from a dark cage (sometimes Yuffie feared he did, a cage made of iron, the words "experiment", "Mako" and "Shin-ra" carved deep), she knew Cloud would have fought back, with his hands, with a tree branch, with anything, destroying Loz into one senseless bleeding thing. If she hadn't said a word, Yazoo would be here, asking in his stupid way of his why he had to bathe when Vincent barely even brushed his hair everyday. If she hadn't –

"Hey."

It was the clicking of his boots striking against the wooden staircase that broke her from the web of her thoughts. She glanced up to met Vincent's face, that sad look that nearly tore her up inside the first time she saw it, his face as white and as withdrawn as the overhead moon. He reached out to pat her head, as if in reassurance and she remembered that Yazoo was more than just a friend, but also a chance to reclaim something that Vincent once lost, years and years ago.

Weakly, she smiled up at him and walked up the stairs on unsteady feet. Just as she reached the top step, she tripped, only to fall against the crook of his arm. Without a word, he steadied her, his hand lingering near her elbow for just a second before flashing a half smile, as if in reward. His feet sounded, like thunder, against the half-varnished floor and she stared at her hands, trying to imagine her fingers enclosed with metal, the kiss of a dark coffin.

"Wait-!" She ran to him, and reached for his hand, her fingers entwining against his long slender ones, her nails barely glazing over his knuckles. His mouth seemed to open in protest, but with just one look at her face, he turned his face to look at the closed door before them.

"Nothing to fear, Yuffie."  
"Yah, 'cause you're here.  
--

What he couldn't stop staring at was the fact that his hands were mismatched, one the hard gleam of metal striking against the overhead lights, the other a slender hand topped with long fingers and sharp nails.

His eyes lifted to stare into crimson light, the mark of Midgar. No one, and his chest hurt when he thought of this, had eyes like that around here.

"Hello."

The voice was what he expected; soft, and low, a murmur that spoke of secrets. Simon curled his fingers into a tight fist and planted both of his feet shoulder width apart. He worked his mouth, contorting his lips into an angry scowl before slamming his fist against the flat of his other palm.

"Get the hell out."

She made a noise from her bed, and instinctively, Yuffie made her way from behind Vincent's back and started to cross the floor of the room, following the escaped sound.

"I SAID –" She barely looked older than Lila and because of that, and also the long hours he spent watching Lila sleep off her pain, Simon's stomach felt a pang of guilt as he raised a hand to seize Yuffie roughly by the shoulder and push her back.

"WHAT THE F-!" Before she could finish her sentence, his hand gently wrapped around her mouth and pulled her closer to him. Lifting a corner of his cape, he wrapped her lightly with its crimson swirls and stared evenly at Simon, his eyes glimmering.

"We mean no harm." His hair was longer, Simon noticed, than even Lila's own. "However, common etiquette dedicates that the same be given to guests of your home."

"GUESTS?" His voice roared and at the sound of it, she gently lifted Vincent's hand upon her shoulder, smiling gratefully at him, and stared at Simon, her hand raised to point an accusing finger his way.

"Look, I know ya be worried and all, but we just needa.."  
"To hurt my daughter again?"

Her mouth closed, and her eyes lowered to the floor. She was thinking of Cloud, the way his mouth hung open as if swallowing mouthfuls of phantom air and the bright red of the blood that ran from a cut jagged across his body. Even though she knew of darkness and stealth, even though she trained her whole life to be a ninja, the sight of blood and of suffering made her mouth grow dry.

_How many children,_ her father once asked her, the night before she left on the Highwind, _will see war?_ Even now, her answer was an unopened shell, clutching to the folds of her mouth and making her words weigh more than she ever thought possible.

She looked up in time to see Vincent gently push aside Simon, his metal claw barely touching the folds of Simon's heavy shoulder. Behind him, on a cot near the stove, the warmest spot in the house, laid a coughing girl, her eyes closed and scrunched up against the pain.

She saw him knelt by her side, pushing his cape over his shoulders with one quick gesture, his hand like a white flash as it reached out to brush aside the girl's bangs. She saw him lower his face towards her, his mouth moving to whisper something as if in comfort. For a moment, it was beauty, the way his claw curled lightly against her pained side and Yuffie thought of her own father, who knelt by her beside when she had the measles and moaned in pain. There was something tender in Vincent's eyes as he cast a glance down towards the suffering girl, his hand barely touching her forehead.

His breath rose to swell into a scream and with a mighty push, sending Yuffie to the floor, Simon broke the silence of the room and ran to his daughter's side. With one hand, he seized Vincent by the collar of his crimson cape, shaking him once, twice as he worked his mouth into several angry shapes.

"What the hell does Midgar want with my daughter?"

Suspended by the awful weight of Simon's wrath, Vincent's dangling body was fragile, as if any moment, he would break under such a tight hold. And then, Simon let loose a wad of spit, striking Vincent's cheek like a grotesque tear.

"Leave my daughter alone."

She watched, in silence, as her father threw him out the door, sending the slender man crashing down the steps, his hand reaching out to grasp just pebbles and dirt as he fell. She watched as the girl got up from the floor, her eyes already wide and her slight body trembling with anger and followed the huge shadow of Simon as he blocked the sun and the sight of the sprawled man from her view.

"LEAVE."

Vincent reached one hand to wipe away the last remnants of spit that clung to his cheek, lifting his raven head to stare evenly at Simon. It was senseless hate, it was the way his eyes glowed, it was his daughter who lay in bed with bandages stained in blood. Vincent knew what made Simon's shoulders swell, his cheeks puffing as if to let out all his anger in one mighty breath.

By the time Simon released his breath, with became a howl that splintered the very eaves of the quiet house, Vincent let his claw grow slack by his side, his other hand uncurling from the handle of the gun he kept locked safe in its holster. He closed his eyes and felt and tasted Simon's anger at the same time as the man lugged forward, his knuckles crashing against the side of Vincent's face. There was an explosion of pain as Simon wheeled back on his heels and let fly another fist on Vincent's other cheek, his voice an angry rasp of a yell.

"Goddamn you."

It took another punch, Simon's fist connecting with the underside of Vincent's chin, lifting the slender man slightly off the ground before Vincent felt the warm taste of blood, dripping from the corner of his nose. He tried to ignore the sudden grip of panic that came over his heart, the flash of a demon in his mind as Simon punched him once again, this time burying his heavy fist deep into Vincent's stomach.

"My daughter… this city's shit."

He uncurled his fist, raising his palm to openly strike Vincent across the cheek, again and against as he gave into the anger that tore him apart for years; the sight of his wife coughing up black soot from her lungs, the soldiers with Shin-Ra tattooed across their back, crackling jokes and catcalls at Simon and his son as they cleaned the bar, the flare and flame of sparks, his best friend screaming in pain as they cut off his arm, inflicted with Mako poisoning, his daughter bleeding and the whispers of rape and Midgar mingled in one breath. He forgot who he was, who he was hitting, and gave into the anger, marveling at the platter and the fall of blood that fell like rain as he continued to strike.

And then, her arms encircled his waist and with all the strength her slight body could muster, Simon felt his arms jerked high over his head and his knees involuntarily falling to the ground. He turned his head in time to see her face, just once, how young she was, before her hand rose to slap him roughly across his face.

"WHAT YER GETTIN' AT, ASSHOLE?"

Simon watched in utter disbelief as the girl let go of his body and ran to the bleeding man's side, her hands already lifted to wipe away the river of blood that fell from his half open mouth. She took one of his mismatched arms and slung it over her shoulders, her other arm wrapped tightly around his slender waist. He towered over her as he half limped, half rose from the ground, his eyes still glistening crimson, an almost unholy shimmer.

They held a glaze, steady, unwavering as she spoke, her voice struggling to speak, "You all consumed."

Her words were cruel, crafted of iron, shining like a star, "And you all can die like that if ya want."

He watched them walk, retracing their steps back into the forest. His eyes drifted to his hand, splattered with the man's blood and he could not erase the sight of the girl as she ran to his side, her eyes narrowed and condemning Simon all in one quick glance. From the open door, he heard Lila moan softly in pain and slowly, Simon wiped off the man's blood on the ground, smearing his pain and all of Scar's deep, deep into the earth.  
--

"YA STUPID IDOIT!"

That was the first thing she said as they walked side by side, Vincent's head hung low and feet dragging against the ground. Blood still dripped from Vincent's nose and delicately from the corner of his mouth and it took all her strength to half carry him, half lead him back to the city of Scar. She felt a stroke of panic, like wildfire, igniting through all parts of her body. There was nowhere else they could go.

The second time she spoke was when the sight of Scar's towering hospital could be seen from a distance, her face already drawn into a long shadow of grief. She reached out with her sweater sleeve covering her open palm to wipe away some of Vincent's blood. He flinched at her touch but let her clean his face with no comment. Her voice was a bit gentler this time as she spoke,

"I know you felt bad, but you weren't here with Midgar was here. Ya ain't to blame for Scar – or for what happened to Yazoo or his daughter neither."

He remained silent as she wiped away the last traces of his blood and slowly leaned his head towards her shoulder as they continued to walk, wrapped and bound together. The phone rang and she almost answered it when she saw it was Cid calling. He lifted one hand to slowly lower the phone, to keep it away from Yuffie's mouth as he coughed, once, twice.

"She heard Loz say Great Glacier."

When she opened her mouth to speak again, he leaned forward and kissed her, openly with his scarred lips, catching the contours of her mouth with his own. She could almost taste the trace of his blood as they stood like that, his body half draped over her own, her hand just a small leaf against the broadness of his shoulders, connected by mouth and arms both. He kissed her for the way her face looked as she slapped Simon across the face, the pain in her voice that came from knowing about anger. He kissed her because her city, her country could have been like Scar, swallowing pain and memory and hate over and over again instead, choosing to flower over its charred remains. He kissed her because the memory of Wutai's war didn't stop her from opening her mouth to speak and laugh and be alive.

When they drew apart, she leaned her forehead against Vincent's own, her breath gently lifting Vincent's bangs as she spoke, this time a whisper, "Ah, Cid never liked Great Glacier anyway." Because his face was so close to her own, because he needed her to support him as his mind spun with pain and stress and the image of Chaos in his mind, Yuffie didn't need to stand on tiptoes to reach his lips. They kissed again, Vincent drawing her slight body to his within the gripe of his claw, its sharp tips gently pressing into the small of her back.

He whispered into her ear, in a quiet, brilliant way, like a soft flame flaring before it died, "This time, you follow me."

"Aw shud ya trap, Vincent."  
--

They walked to the train station, Vincent still weak from Simon's attack and the effort it took him not to transform to escape the image of Simon's pain that ravaged his mind. Yuffie didn't speak, though with a sideways glance to her reddened cheeks and the on and off brilliance of her smile, Vincent knew kissing her outside Scar's gates was perhaps not the most brilliant decision on his part. Now, on the ten hour ride up North, Vincent knew he wouldn't hear the end of it; Yuffie's endless chatter about everything and anything and her insistence to tease him, tug at his cape and his hair and announce her prowess over everybody else's, including Vincent. Somehow, the thought of it made Vincent's mind calm just a little.

She was just a long shadow with a soft curve in the middle of it, carrying bags of food in both hands. And then, she called them by name and ran as fast as she could to their side.

"VINCENT! YUFFIE!"

Her face broke into a smile as her eyes took in the sight of Yuffie's hands wrapped tightly around Vincent's waist, his eyes glancing sideways at her with a half smile and then shifting to stare into her own beaming face.

"Shera."

His face grew sheepish as Yuffie shuffled her feet, trying to hide the bags of bandages and clothes behind her own legs, avoiding Shera's knowing eyes And then, she reached one hand to pat Yuffie gently on the head, saying softly, "Oh, Cid'll be fine. Just do what you gotta do and come back."

"And don't forget, I wanna meet Yazoo, too!"  
--

"We're lucky."  
"Hm?"

He let his hand slip from the bandage he wrapped around his skimmed knuckles, a result of Simon's rough push down the stairs and looked up to stare at Yuffie, who sat on her knees and kept one hand against the train's window.

"Just thinkin' out loud."

She turned her face to smile at him, which he briefly returned before he lowered his eyes and his attention both to applying bandages on the cuts on his cheeks, and drabbing his still bleeding nose. Her shadow fell over Vincent's own, coating his body with its slight width.

With a ramble and a sudden start that sent Yuffie tumbling from the seat, the train started moving. He reached out a hand to help her from the floor when suddenly, she spied something from the window and let out a squeal of joy.

She pounded on the glass with both fists, screaming, "Vincent, look!"

He turned in time to catch Denzel's face, his mouth open wide with yells that couldn't penetrate the roar of the train, his hands sticky with the jam of the sandwich he held with one hand. Past Denzel's running figure, Vincent saw Tifa, her hair done up in a high ponytail, and Cid and Shera, arms entwained, waving and screaming and flashing brilliant smiles. Yuffie let out another whoop of joy as she pounded the window, over and over again, waving as furiously as she could, screaming back at Denzel, her eyes watering at the sight of Tifa's bright smile.

The last they saw of Scar was not Simon, his hand tainted with Vincent's blood, or of Lila, her face white with pain and the loss of her innocence. What they saw was Denzel, feet planted shoulder width apart, his fist pumping into the air and Cid, who let go of Shera just so he could flash a thumbs up high above his head.

It took all of his strength to remain seated and watch Denzel and Cid's figures, along with Tifa's bright smile and Shera's knowing eyes, fade into the dusk as the train picked up speed.

She kept her hands pressed against the window, his eyes staring at her reflection, the collection of tears that hugged the lower corners of her eyes. Quietly, she spoke, leaning her head against the windowpane.

"You can come back here, anytime."

He remembered Cloud and the way he never gave up hope, he remembered Yuffie and Yazoo giggling over caught fireflies and the braid they wove into his raven hair as he slept, he remembered most of all, the way his mind suddenly cleared as Yuffie turned to him, offering her open palm.

He took her hand in his and they watched as the train sped through the country, metal wheels grinding against dirt and sending sparks into the twilight, looking like fireflies.

--

_Author's notes; long chapter I know. But school's picking up and I can't possibly update as much as I usually do. So updates are going to occur less and less frequently, however, tergiversation's just picking up pace. I really, really loved writing this chapter. I'm trying to interweave themes besides just Yuffie and Vincent's budding romance so it took a while for me to write this. Read, review and enjoy! You'll hear from me soon!  
_


	20. bonus: the train ride

_Author's notes; so I'm writing chapter 20 and started to add little scenes of Vincent and Yuffie on the train to Great Glacier. It turned out really cute and full of fluff… however I decided it didn't fit into the theme that I wanted to establish in chapter 20. I was going to delete the whole thing and start right where Vincent and Yuffie arrive at Great Glacier, but then a friend of mine read it and was like, NO DON'T. So I decided to add this as a separate bonus chapter, as a thank you to all my reviewers. **Ignore this if too much fluff hurts your teeth**. I really, really love writing scenes with Vincent and Yuffie together, especially due to my characterization of both of them; thanks for all the fantastic reviews! It helps that I can inject personality and wit into Vincent and still get positive feedback that he isn't out of character at all. Like come on, Square Enix, seriously, no man can be that morose and that brooding all the time. Thanks everyone and wait for the real chapter – it's coming ya way soon! – Senzafine_

**the train ride**

_the first hour of the train up North, to Great Glacier:_  
"—Gah, you weren't even listening were you?""I was."

"NO YOU WEREN'T!"

--

_the third hour:_  
He edged away, trying as hard as he could to push himself to the corner of the seat as she moved closer and closer to his body "Yuffie." His voice held a slight, apprehensive tone as she shook her head, her eyes flaring indignantly. "Goddamn, Vincent! 'Course, I know ya all weird about touching shit."

"Then why do you still persist in coming closer?"

His question made her face turn pink as she stopped in her advancement. She lowered her eyes to stare at her legs, barely covered by her khaki shorts and long black leggings, her yellow sneakers untied, trailing white laces like fat snakes across the train's floor.

"Cause I'm cold."

"The heat's on." Though his voice was firm, his eyes took in the sight of her shivering body, the thin black sweater she wore barely able to cover her bare mid-drift, the sleeves cut off at her elbow, revealing the navy blue wristbands she wore on both arms.

"BUT VINCENT---!"  
"Absolutely not."  
--

_the fourth hour:_  
"Come on, Vincent! Talk to me!"

Silence.

She smiled into his chest, wrapping her arms tightly over his waist, feeling the weight of crimson as his cape blanketed her body.

"Ya can't be mad! Ya were cold too!"

Silence.

She sat, snuggled up against Vincent's long body, delighting in the scent of his skin, the musk and the wine smell of him that reminded her of the books he read long into the night, her fingers playing with Vincent's claw, as it laid limply onto of his crossed legs.

"Ya still smell the same, with or without clothes."

His eyes darted towards her face, his lips set in a slight scowl as Yuffie collapsed in giggles by his side. "Yuffie."

Silence, with just the giggling of Yuffie filling the air above their heads.

He spoke again, trying to calm down the slight blush in his cheeks as Yuffie leaned suggestively closer to his body, "I told you how many times not to mention that."

Silence, with Yuffie grinning up at his face.

"It would be better if both of us do not say anything about that night, at least for a while."

Silence, as Yuffie slowly pushed his shoulders back, to kiss the back of the worn train seat.

"Try to understand, Yuffie."

Silence, with Yuffie giggling again as she placed her cheek against his chest, lying on top of his sprawled body.

"Yuffie."

Silence, with one of Yuffie's hands running through his long hair, her face nearly bursting with the spread of her smile.

"Well then, I guess I have to tell your father about it."  
"SHUT UP, VINCENT!"--

_the fourth and fifteenth hour_

"Vincent, whatcha thinkin'?"  
"How nice it'll be if I could sit up."

"JERK!"  
--

_the sixth hour:_  
His arm across her back felt like a boat gently riding the wave of her skin, moving up and down with the rise and fall of her breath. The train seemed to move almost silently as Vincent shifted his eyes from Yuffie's sleeping figure to the passing scenery outside his window. Trees stood like sentinels, brushing long branches, like fingers, over the glass. She slept peacefully, sprawled across his chest, tucking her head underneath the crevice of his chin.

He sighed, thinking about how young her face looked, her mouth half open to let out breath after rhythmic breath. Her fingers curled and unfurled to match her breathing, and crossing his hands gently over her head, Vincent tried to forget the sight of Shera and Cid standing on the train platform, the round swell of her stomach a smile that echoed across Cid's face. He wasn't ready to have a child yet (if he even could), nor did he want a band of gold to shimmer across his left hand. What he wanted was their happiness, their wholeness, the way Cid knew without doubting himself that he was complete only when Shera's arms were tightly wrapped around his waist or her hand in his hair, trying to mat down the unruly blonde spikes.

No doubt, no regret, no memory of a woman encased in crystal, lit by overhead lights and the reflection of a neon spring. No angst, no questions, no nightmares of blood, tingled with the heavy reminder of what could have been if only.

He wanted their wholeness.

No more broken; wings, that serve only to bring forth demons; promises, whispered over and over like a prayer; memories, etched so deeply in his mind there was no way he could trust them.

He wanted to be whole.

A light brush of lips against his own made him lower his eyes to catch Yuffie, awake and bright-eyed, giggling up at him, one elbow propped against the train seat to offer her better leverage to stare into his face.

"Ya zoning out."  
"Well, yeah."

"STUPID!" She lifted a hand to playfully swat at his cheek, her fingers brushing against the bandage applied underneath his eye. Giggling, she lowered the upper half of her body to lie against his chest once more, both of her arms tightly wrapped around his waist. "Ya the most boring person to take a trip with."

"Is that so?" Vincent shifted his shoulders, as if making a motion to sit up, his mismatched hands on Yuffie's body to push her off of his own, "then, if you're so bored, I suggest you walk around the train a bit."

"NO!" Blushing, she braced her legs and squared her shoulders in an effort to make Vincent stay exactly where he was; back kissing the train seat, his long body underneath her own. "Ya can't even take a joke!"

"You're the one who fell asleep, not me." He tried not to laugh as Yuffie sent a look of utter panic towards his face, her hands already pushing his shoulders back against the seat.

"That's cause you weren't talking to me! YA NEVER TALK!"  
"I talk. You expect me to yell."

"NO I DON'T. WHY YA KEEP SAYIN' THAT?"  
"And I'm the one who can't take a joke?"

He ran one hand through her hair, brushing back the bangs that clung to her forehead, his eyes a soft sierra underneath the dingy lights overhead. She blushed again and trying to be as natural as possible, she lifted her mouth to gently kiss his cheek, giggling into his ear. His fingers separated strands of her hair, clinging to the tips for just one brief second before saying, "By the way Yuffie, when you sleep, you drool."

"SHUD UP!" Her fist lugged playfully at his shoulder, which would have made him laugh if her punch didn't hit his squarely where his shoulder blade met his neck. She was off his body and standing before him, with hands planted firmly at her hips, eyes defiant. "Ya got no tact either!"

In one quick movement, he swung his long legs off the train seat to hit squarely on the metal floor, his one good hand already running through his hair to lift the locks that clung to his cheeks. He sighed, lifting his eyes to meet Yuffie's own, before she flashed a triumphant smile his way, turning swiftly on her heel, "Where are you going?"

"To buy food. One of us gots to be the responsible one."  
"Well then, can I have back my wallet?"  
--

_the sixth and a half hour:_  
"Ya goin' eat that?"  
"Yes I am."

"Yuffie, I said I was going to eat that."  
"Don't lie! Ya never eat anything!"

"How can I if you eat all my food?"  
"I brought it remember? Ya got a problem?"

"With my money, I might add."  
"GAH!"  
--

_the seventh hour:_  
Two girls sat across from them, two girls with hair as blonde Cloud's own, generous proportions from their thighs, encased in tight leather pants, to their chest, pink and blue sweaters pulled taunt.

She lowered her eyes to stare at her own hands, the grime and dirt underneath the nails, crisscrossed with scratches from running through Scar's forests, to her legs, where the bare patch of skin between her shorts and leggings were dotted with purple and blue bruises, rewards of the training she undergoes every morning, almost religiously, practicing her throwing and acrobatics.

They giggled together, staring at him and swiftly, she turned to see his slender frame elegantly draped across the train seat, his metal claw hidden from sight in the folds of his cape, his good hand cupping his cheek.

Growling, she turned her sight back to the girls and reached into the satchel that hung by her left hip.

"No." His voice sounded flat, almost bored as he reached a hand to cover the flap of her satchel, his eyes a warning. She let out an angry sigh as she lowered her hand to the top of her legging, where she kept a knife in its leather sheath. The girls eyed Vincent happily, not noticing her fuming silently by his side.

"Yuffie." It took just one word out of his mouth and she let out a breath, sending her bangs high over her head with the force of her exhale.

"HEY YA KNOW HE'S A VAMPIRE?"

Yuffie reached out to grab his claw from the folds of his cape, flashing the metal in front of the girls' astonished faces. His eyes narrowed as Yuffie let out another yell, "HE'S DANGEROUS, YA CAN'T TRUST HIM!"

The girls were barely off of the seat and running down the train aisle without a second look over their shoulders. Yuffie smiled brightly, and laid her cheek against the cold cool of his claw, giggling.

"Yuffie, I told you how many times not to mention –"  
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

She placed her lips against the metal palm of his claw, a gesture so tender that Vincent's eyes soften, his slight scowl relaxing enough to smile. Softly, she mouthed out the word "mine" into his claw, her soft fingers tracing a line all the way to the sharp tips, which sank like a kiss against her warm flesh.

When she lifted her eyes to look at Vincent, he was already staring out the window, staring deeply at the passing trees, the wind growing colder and harsher as the train continued on.

"I shoulda said you were crazy."  
"Oh, you already got that part covered."

--

_the seventh and a half hour_  
"VINCENT, COME ON!"  
"Absolutely not."

"Why?"  
"Because it goes against my morals."

"HOW!"

His eyes flashed angrily, staring at her face, the pleading smile and frantic hand movements making his own face set like stone.

"I said no."  
"BUT VINCENT!"

"You know how I feel about alcohol."  
"But it's for me, not you!"

"Not a convincing case, I might add."  
"COME ON, I'M BORED!"

--

_The eighth hour:_  
"Ya want a beer, Vincent?"

Silence.

"Ya such a pansy, Vincent!"

Silence.

"Are ya mad I'm drinking?"

Silence, except it was the silence of a kiss as Vincent closed his eyes, as if to hide his frustration and Yuffie leaned forward on her knees to meet his lips.

"Don't be mad, ya pansy!"

"You took my wallet again, without asking."  
"I SAID I WAS BORED!"  
--

_the ninth hour:_

"Hey, ya listenin', Vincent?"  
"I am."

"Vincent."  
"Yes?"

"I'm cold."  
--

_author's notes pt. 2: I feel so warm inside. Aww, the wonders of fluff. I don't think there'll be a lot of it in the next few chapters so getting this out of my system really helps.  
_


	21. brother

**brother**

When wrapped in darkness, the touch of a body pressing against your own is reason enough to believe that you're alive. Or at least, so he thought, as he felt his stomach being jostled by the hard crevices of his brother's muscular shoulder, how his fingertips could taste the hard skin of leather with just a slight brush against his brother's back. His silver hair could not shimmer in so deep a darkness though he knew that his brother's hair would match his own, silver strand for silver strand. Because of the darkness, he could not see the crimson blood that stained his brother's stubby fingers. If he closed his eyes and took in the scent of the wood; the forest green of the trees and the dark earth underneath, he could forget Cloud, lying broken at the clearing, the sight of his blue eyes foggy with pain, his face lowered in defeat. His legs, plastered and heavy, slammed against his brother's stomach as he carried Yazoo like a child carrying a broken doll. Silence flowed between them, matched only by the pounding of his brother's feet as he ran through the forest, his eyes straight ahead, staring at a sight only he could see.

With one hand, Yazoo gently reached up to pat Loz gently on the head. He wanted to remember his brother but was grateful that he could not see Cloud's blood as it stained Loz's fingers, one, two, three.

The first thing Loz said, in a voice as rough as his memories, was, "Shoulda brought along the wheelchair." Yazoo shook his head, his eyes still closed as he lowered his hand from on top of Loz's head. "It's okay."

"Did they – do that to you?"

It was the flash of electricity surging through his legs, bare fists that slammed repeated against the soft of his cheeks. It had nothing to do with airships, a lithe girl who ate yogurt with honey and talked to him as he let his arms drop over the side of the deck, letting his palms kiss the sight of open skies. It was suits of identical blue, topped by black ties and faces that were relentless in their pursuit, the mechanical roar of a helicopter that sliced the air in angry splinters. It wasn't a fire that burned deep shadows into a cave, a man with crimson eyes that read out loud with a voice that lulled him to sleep or reprimanded, quite firmly, the excess use of alcohol as a means of dulling pain, either physical or mental.

"No."

Loz blinked twice and coughed, not expecting the strength of Yazoo's voice. "Then who did, brother?"

Yazoo leaned his forehead against the hard knobs of his brother's back, trying to forget that his brother's eyes could glisten with that much hate, how he could have torn Cloud apart if Yazoo, crawling through mud and rain both, took a hold of Loz's ankle within the vise of his arms and pleased him to stop.

It wasn't enough to erase the river of blood that followed Loz's footsteps as he lifted Yazoo tenderly from the ground, brushing back his bangs with a hand that smelled of blood. He shouldered Yazoo's slight body, securing placing a hand against Yazoo's waist before turning and running as fast as he could through the forest. It wasn't enough to see Cloud, alone, covered by mud and rain both.

_Life did, brother._ But even as the words raised from the pit of his stomach to form, like stones, in his mouth, Yazoo let them go, dying in the darkness.

"That's why we gotta stay together, Yaya." At the utterance of his childhood name, Yazoo's face flinched, as if recoiling from a slap. He remembered Loz carrying him whenever he was tired, falling asleep as they walked, flanked by the setting sun. Kadaj, his hair barely enough for a short ponytail, would run ahead, his arms carrying whatever food they managed to steal or beg off the streets, his face a wide smile. The sound of his voice and Loz's as they chatted happily was a soft chorus that promised safety and most of all, love. Yazoo would bury his face into Loz's strong shoulders, hugging his brother tightly and laughing at Kadaj. He would fall sleep, knowing that once he woke up, his brothers would wait for him to wake up before eating what little they had.

Back then, he only knew his brothers. He didn't know anything about ninjas and a country called Wutai, where they still wore kimonos and strapped katanas to their waist with a length of rope. He didn't know about redemption and how the word etched itself over and over on the covers of all his books, even the ones he read by firelight, reading out loud the best and most beautifully written parts. Vincent and Yuffie and their kindness, their love was something Yazoo never expected to find in a world that showed only its dark roots and bitter-cold corners to him. Back then, all he knew was his brothers who stood watch over him as he slept, clutching knives and sharpened stones against the jeering crowds that followed their steps.

"Did you miss me, Yaya?"

Yazoo opened his mouth to speak when Loz suddenly turned on his heel. He jumped over a fallen tree trunk, jostling Yazoo with that swift movement. There was a shadow that squealed as Loz reached out a hand and grabbed at her hair. He gently lowered Yazoo to sit on the wet ground as he pulled the screaming girl to him.

Yazoo blinked at the sight of her; her eyes were as wide and as bright as Yuffie's, smiling as she stuffed handful after handful of stolen candy into his deep pockets. Her face contorted itself in pain as Loz held onto the end of her braid, his mouth a narrow slit of anger.

"Were you following us?"

Her teeth clattered from the cold and from fear as he wound his fist over and over through her hair, yanking as hard as he could so her eyes were forced to stare up at his own. "Were you?"

"N-n-no." Yazoo let out a yell as he reached up to grab a hold of the girl's kicking legs, his face a plea against the anger that blossomed over the rough contours of Loz's face. "You heard her."

"Are you running off then, to tell your daddy?" Loz lifted her higher into the air, causing Yazoo's broken body to rise as well, as strands of his hair clung to his skull, his eyes pleading. "Loz, stop!"

"N-n-no…"

"You're not a kid. Look at how pretty you are."

"I won't tell.." Her voice was cut off as Loz tightened his other hand around her throat, causing for her eyes to widen in pain, his fingers burying against her virgin skin. "Won't --- tell ---"

"And how can I believe you, eh?"

"LOZ STOP IT!"

--

The glass shimmered in air, as if catching all the light that surrounded it in one quick, eager kiss and then crashed to the floor with a resounding scream. He lifted the plate of food high over his head and brought it crashing against the edge of the table, sending bits of meat and brown gravy over the old carpet.

And still, Yazoo remained in his chair, unheeding of the noise or the sight of Loz's angry eyes. He kept his eyes peering out the window, staring at the quickly passing landscape, the way the darkness was made of different shades of black; the crisscross of twilight and the absence of light, the foggy black that hugged the shadows of trees and the pitch of the sky, shaded lightly with lavender and purple. The table gave way, crashing against the wall of their enclosed compartment. Only then did Yazoo look up, in time to see Loz sink to the floor, lowering his head into Yazoo's lap.

His voice was muffled and with the dull roar of the train, Yazoo had to strain to hear his voice.

"-Only one."

Yazoo lifted both of his hands to encircle Loz's head, his fingers still flat, level with Loz's silver hair. He wanted to be away from his brother, this tall menacing shadow of man, with pale skin and bright eyes that reflected his own sins. He needed to think, about the price of blood and the consequences of hate, someplace where his brother's voice would not weigh as much as his head upon Yazoo's lap.

"I can't be the only one." He lifted his face to stare up Yazoo, the silver hair that fell beyond his shoulders, now falling to shade his eyes, so Loz could not tell if he was smiling or crying. "They'll hunt us, again and again."

"Because they can't forget."

Loz lowered his head to place a cheek against the hard plaster of Yazoo's legs as the river of spilled gravy shifted with the roll of the train, only to steep into his knees. His brother's breathing was slow, labored and Loz tried to match it. In the days that separated them, Yazoo's hair grew longer, and his face, when masked in shadow and flickering light, grew longer as well. Scratches on his cheek mirrored the latticework on the back of the hands that crisscrossed over Loz's head in a slight embrace. His brother's neck ran deep with a river and a stream of scars, red scars that traced itself from the underside of his chin past the collar of his shirt. Loz took a deep breath, and smelled the scent of his brother's shirt; there was a trace of something sweet, more refined than sugar and the dust of a traveled road. It was a scent too unfamiliar to Loz, who was accustomed to smelling nothing but stale bread and the light stench of gunpowder from his brother's slender frame.

"We got nobody else."

He got slapped, just one eager palm across his cheek when he said that, weeks and weeks ago, during lunch, causing Yuffie to get up from the dinner table, leaving behind a plate full of food. Cid lowered his beer bottle as if in shock and Yazoo couldn't meet his piercing, knowing stare. He stared at the metal table as the Seirra floated through clouds at high noon, reflecting back the sun and the shadows of birds both. He had felt a hand on his shoulder, and turning, he meet Vincent's crimson eyes, that stern look that shook Yazoo out of his sheepish state. With some help, Yazoo got up from his chair, grabbing hold of his crutches and balancing Yuffie's uneaten food with some difficulty. He knew Vincent and Cid watched him as he hobbled out of the kitchen, his eyes searching for the slight ninja and his mouth open, as if practicing his apology, again and again.

How to tell Loz that there was more than just darkness, little girls that screamed at the sight of brilliant eyes and a belief, suspended over your head like a halo, that is nothing more but that; a belief as thin as smoke? Kadaj will never come back, and Yazoo could feel pangs of distrust and fear creeping into his stomach as Loz continued to talk, his eyes glazing over until there was nothing human in his voice or the way he smiled up at Yazoo's lowered face.

"That's why we're going to Great Glacier. Don't you remember the snow before the forest, Yaya? Don't you think that's where he'll be waiting?"

"Who, Loz? Who'll be waiting?" Yazoo tried to remember the taste and touch of snow, if its coldness and the vast spread of white, as far as the eye could see, was real and not just a part of his fragmented memories. Loz's arms encircled Yazoo's waist and in his eyes, Yazoo saw the stretch of long, endless nights, where fingernails dug into soft flesh as if in reminder that they were real, and not something born of fake intentions and nightmares.

"Brother will be there."

--

He could barely lift the boy up the stairs, the pain of his stomach and shoulders igniting fire throughout his body. She watched him as he walked, clutching Denzel to his chest, his face a determined smile.

It was only when he made it up the stairs, leaning heavily against the wall did she reached out, her arms open and waiting. "Ya big lug, can't even ask for help even when you need it." Her eyes were the same shade of new earth, kissed by a streak of crimson and in the flickering light, her shadow against the wall seemed to grow wings, stretching towards entirety.

Instead of handing Denzel to her, he sank into her arms, pressing his cheek against her own, letting the sleeping boy lie between them, suspended by his strong hold. Her eyes widen in surprise, then soften as she breathed in the scent of Denzel, his little boy smell and the half eaten apple he clutched in one hand.

Cloud placed his lips against her cheek, sneaking a kiss against the corner of her mouth and then stood, straightening his back and pressing the sleeping boy closer to his body. From the frayed edges of his sleeves, Tifa could see the heavy bandages that wove themselves from his shoulder all the way down to his wrist, knowing that another bandage hugged the sides of his stomach, all the way to his chest. Three times a day, Cloud had to reapply them, peeling off the bandages with a flinching face and teeth gritted in determined. He would let them fall to the floor, curling like snakes and stained in blood as he turned his naked torso to Tifa and let her curl a fresh set of bandages around and about his body.

Then Denzel would gather the bandages up in a bag and run downstairs, asking Shera if he could get a cup of water for Cloud to take his pills with. They'll watch him gulp down different colored painkillers, pills that looked like candy almost and then he'll give the heavy glass back to Denzel, who carried it back downstairs with a solemn look. Tifa would help him from the bed and together, they'll watch Denzel play in Cid's garage, Cloud sometimes leaning his head over Denzel's own as they tried to piece together a toy airplane, or help Shera in the garden, digging up worms to be saved in a plastic container until the weekend, where Cid and Tifa would fly out to the lake and fish. All the sun and all the open spaces of Rocket Town made Denzel's skin glow, his pale complexion blossoming and made Cloud's recovery a gentle, eager thing.

Little rituals, like Cloud's bandages and Denzel's complaints about school while eating dinner, Cid's insistence to drink beer at breakfast and Shera's biscuits dipped in honey and sugar both, made everyone happy, at peace, though Cid carried his cell phone wherever he went and Shera and Tifa were hard at work, putting together a bedroom filled with books, just in case.

Just in case.

Tifa watched from the doorway, leaning her head against the doorframe, as Cloud gently placed Denzel on the bed, pulling blankets around his curled figure.

"She said Yazoo was just like 'Zel, always falling asleep in the middle of something."

Tifa shifted her eyes to the ground, refusing to look at Cloud as he slowly got up from his crouch near the bed, his bare feet barely making a sound as he crossed the wooden floor.

"She said give Yazoo a chance, everyone deserves it."

His arms around her felt warm, and she placed a hand at the base of his neck, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. They kissed, just once, placing lip against lip as hands wrapped themselves tightly over her slender waist. She took in the scent of him, the green of field and of tree, the slight undertone of diesel, fuel, silver, metal. Her hand gently ran through his hair, pulling apart one blond spike with her spread fingers.

"That's what I told 'Zel when he asked why I didn't fight Loz."

He gently raised his lips to kiss her forehead and hand in hand, they left the bedroom and the sleeping boy in it, leaving the door slight ajar. If Denzel was to cry out in his sleep, they could hear him and be by his side.

"Maybe they could save Loz too."

He smiled at her, and she squeezed his fingers. "Cloud, you can't underestimate what those two will do."

"I'm just prayin' they'll come back without havin' to blow up a small country."

She laughed, " 'Cause they're brothers, I'm sure Vincent and Yuffie will swoop down, rescue both of them and be here, complaining about how there's no food."

"I hope so, Tifa. I want to believe in what Yuffie said."

"What did she say?"

They were lying in bed, her hair falling into Cloud's upturned face as she stared down into his sapphire eyes. He looked more beautiful than she ever remembered.

"That everyone wants to be saved."

Before she lowered her lips to kiss him again, before their bodies rose and fell in rhythm, before his breath caught itself in the hook of her ear, before they clung and hugged and whimpered together, promising love, Tifa reached out a hand to turn off the lamp, her voice reflecting like a star in the darkness.

"Because everyone **can **be saved, Cloud."

There was nothing more but silence and then the rise and fall of their breaths, her naked back pressed against the sheets and his face, eyes closed in pleasure and then opening to stare at her, giving him every little part of her body and her heart. He tasted tears and her sweat and let her lips catch droplets of his own as they kissed and folded and unfolded to the half-filtered moon, the lazy hum of grasshoppers outside their window and the feeling of home, so far away.

His name coming from her lips was sweet as Cloud lowered himself to lie besides Tifa, catching the folds of her long hair with one hand. He kissed her again, and drew circles across her naked back with one finger.

"Everyone." She hugged him and before she fell asleep, her cheek pressed against the crisscross of his bandages, she tried to remember Cloud like this, holding her in his arms, letting himself laugh and cry and kiss and talk about home as if what waited for him was only happiness and Denzel going to school each morning and lying in bed with her every night. She wanted to remember Cloud happy, completely exhausted from love and pleasure both, where memory could not pierce the blanket that covered their entwined bodies.

Cloud held her, as if her body was the only thing he knew, and still, he could not sleep. He remembered the glow of Vincent's eyes, the way his mismatched hand curled around themselves.

What a world to live in, where heroes are marked by how much they lost, instead of how much they have.

Because he wanted to live the rest of his days in obscurity, because he wanted to soften his blades until the only thing they could cut was shadows, Cloud began to count the things he had, right next to him, breathing and alive and more real than memory. In the two weeks since Scar, surrounded by life, Cloud began to give up the part of him that was revered as hero by the rest of the world, the world that could not understand why Cloud held her so tightly, as if she'll slip away into thin air.

He lowered his mouth to kiss the top of Tifa's bent head and thought of how tightly her hand was, wrapped in Vincent's claw, that cold metal thing no one else would ever think about touching. How human she was, chuckling at Vincent's silence, and how much Cloud hoped Yuffie would save Vincent from the lonely road that stalked his footstep like an assassin, planning on slicing him down with regret and pain.

He wanted Vincent to be cured, and because of that, he prayed that Yazoo would allow himself to be saved, to be different from his brothers that saw only hatred everywhere they went.

"I want –" he whispered to Tifa's sleeping self, "- to believe that too, Tifa."

--

The knife's blade glimmered in the moonlight, and slowly, he lowered his hand. His hair fell towards his face as he watched Loz sleep.

Because he remember his brother, carrying him through the streets where no one would even look at then, was why Yazoo lost his reserve.

He sank to the floor, letting his breaths rise like a chorus over his head. He lifted both of hands to cover his face, to let his eye close against the soft of his skin. He could still smell blood, like a phantom, drifting from his brother's sleeping, slumped form.

The train cut through the night, and Yazoo was trying to remember blue sky, white clouds and a night that was more blue than black.

Brother.

--

"Whacha thinkin'?"

Her question was innocent enough and slowly, Vincent lowered his glaze from the window to stare down at her, her body sprawled on the seat, legs kicking mindlessly at the empty space above them.

He tugged free the corner of his cape that her head was resting on and titled his head to look up at the ceiling. "For family –"

"That's why Loz fought Cloud, that's why Cloud didn't fight back."

Yuffie straighten herself, placing her knees together as she sat up to look at Vincent's figure.

"It's all very ironic, isn't it, Yuffie?"

Her eyes glistened as she pulled her knees to her chest, and spoke, softly, just in case Vincent might hear her.

"But we're Yazoo's family now, aren't we?"

He leaned forward, staring down at her curled figure and let out a soft sigh. Reaching out a hand to place upon her head, Vincent spoke, his eyes straight ahead, "Yes."

He prayed she didn't see the glimmer of doubt that rose to his eyes, the doubt that tasted like a hot spark caught in the tender part of his throat, cutting off all words and letting only silence blossom over their heads.

--


	22. i finally found what i like about snow

"_first snowfall"  
this year the voice  
is weaker  
---- Kobayashi Issa_

**i finally found what i like about snow**

There was only one school in town, and on days like this, he wished he was anywhere but. It didn't help that the heater was turned the highest it could go, steaming the windowpanes with a thick fog that seemed to not only command his attention, but also condemn his wandering eyes. At the front of the room stood a diminutive woman with thick red hair pulled severely back into a bun that stood like a flower blossom at the nape of her neck. Ms. Mulcahy barely reached his shoulder when they stood next to each other, and yet with her tiger striped glasses and the green sweater she always wore around her waist, he knew better than to trust her benign appearance. He stood in the hall one too many times, crossing and uncrossing his legs, twirling his wallet chain and trying to think of something else besides the twenty-five pairs of eyes that giggled and aimed mocking looks his way through the classroom door. He knew, better than anyone, that Ms. Mulcahy was not one to be trifled with.

Cupping his left cheek against his raised palm, he tried to remember exactly what Gilon wanted him to do today; he wasn't as smart as his brother, that much he knew, but he also knew he wasn't half as scatterbrained as Tegan. Sneaking a sly look towards the girl who sat next to him, he caught the glimpse of one of her sky blue eyes and quickly stuck out his tongue to her. She returned the gesture, pulling at the black fringe of bangs that kissed her forehead to cover her eyes. He wanted to laugh; Tegan was always doing something strange and never getting blamed for it.

On days like this, he wished he was anywhere but here.

And just when he seriously contemplating whether or not he should fall to the ground, rolling around with one hand in his stomach and crying out about the rather odd appearance of today's hamburgers, the bell sounded, reverberating dully through the cramped classroom.

He slipped on his bright yellow parka, stuffing his hands deep into fur-lined black gloves and yanked on his trademark beanie. He was the first one of the door, his face breaking into a smile as he met the snow and wind of Great Glacier.  
--

"Oh no, you don't!"

What's annoying was the fact that Tegan was much more agile on her feet than he was, weaving herself in and out of the crowded streets as if she was invisible. No, it wasn't Tegan's agility that bothered him, but rather that she knew how he would have to struggle to catch up with her, tugging at her hand and pleading for her to slow down.

It was with this speed that she tugged and unclasped the strap that held his snowboard snuggly against the small of his back, and spun him swiftly around, so that he broke from his chattering group of friends to stare into her blue of sky eyes.

"Oh come on, Tegan. I already told everyone I'm going boardin'."  
"Yeah, well, tell Locke and Shiro forget it."

She stared up at him, narrowing her eyes in a gesture he knew so well that his body instantly froze, his face a nervous shadow of its usual cocky grin. With one gloved hand, she jabbed him firmly in the chest, tugging at one of his raven spikes, flatten by his beanie, with her other hand.

"If I didn't have lessons, ya know I would've done it."  
"Done what, Tegan?"

"PICK UP SOLEIL, REMEMBER!"

His mouth hung open, in time to catch a particularly harsh wind as it sent a bit of ice into his throat. The sudden chill against the warmth of his mouth sent him into a coughing fit, and wrapping his arms briefly over Tegan's slight shoulders, he was off, running, his long legs pumping as quickly as he could, avoiding the patches of ice that shimmered silver all along the sidewalks.

She sighed, raising a palm to slap lightly against her forehead in a show of disbelief. Haring laughter, she lifted her head to smile back at his friends, Locke with the messy red hair and Shiro's big, gap toothed grin.

"Can ya believe that jerk?" She laughed and together, the three began to walk in the opposite direction of his quickly vanishing figure.  
--

It was a circle first, and then with one finger, she drew lines that intersected it, crossing in the middle to form a star. A slight dusting of snow fell over her hunched shoulders. With her black jacket, downcast face and crouched figure, she looked like a tiny black bird, searching for shelter from the snowfall underneath the old awning that stood outside the small, two floor hospital. By her feet was a large Styrofoam cup that was once filled, by the look of its brown stained rim, with hot chocolate only now overflowing with handfuls of snow she picked up with her bare hands.

She didn't look up until he stood over her, his shadow coating her like the traces of snowflakes that clung to her hair, making it sparkle.

"Hey."

He took off his glove, shoving it deep into his parka pocket and offered her a hand, palm open and fingers outstretched. She lowered her eyes to glance at the drawing she traced into the snow before getting up, dusting herself off with both hands. Their palms met, like a kiss and she looked at him, her blue green eyes as bright as the reflection of light upon an empty snowfield at night. He tried to smile, but instead saw how pale her lips were, how strands of her hair clung to her forehead, matted down by melted snow.

"You shoulda waited inside with Gilon. It's too cold."

He slung the small leather backpack that stood by her feet over his shoulder, the brown leather bumping against the green of his own bag, and together, they walked hand in hand down the shoveled driveway. She was quiet until they turned the corner of the street, the hospital hidden by a thick hedge.

"You're late, Tynan."

Now he knew she was mad; no one, with the exception of Tegan, called him by his full name. He turned swiftly, his face already breaking into a bright smile, his other gloved hand reaching out to break a tiny crystal of ice that clung to one of her silver locks.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll make it up to ya, whatcha wanna eat?" She giggled as Tynan took off his beanie, freeing his black spikes to shift with the wind, and covered her head with it. She squeezed his fingers delightfully and flashed a smile up towards his face, looking happier and healthier than she looked for hours.

"Everything."

They giggled and laughed again, trying to ignore the stares of an old man who stood by the corner, his face flashing angrily at the sight of Soleil's hair that shone silver even at night and eyes of green blue, flecked with gold.

He murmured a swear under his breath as Tynan and Soleil passed, hand in hand and averted his own yellowed eyes from the sight of her bright eyes and pale hair. He remembered war and a Meteor that hung over the sky, looking like a demon ready to devour everything in sight. He remembered and that's why he hated her.

Tynan turned his head towards the old man right before they turned the corner, and the look in his clear eyes made the old man bow his head, trying to hide the hate that shimmered from deep within.

"Are you listening?"

Tynan shifted his eyes quickly back to Soleil, his face breaking into a smile. "Yeah, yeah. I'm listening."  
--

"GAH!" Yuffie held one arm high over her head, as if to cover her head from the onslaught of falling snow. Shifting from one leg to another, she held another hand to her chest as she let out a sneeze, shaking the locks of hair that hugged her cheeks.

The station at Great Glacier was dominated by a clock that stood high over her upturned face, beaming with brass and metal and little orbs that twirled in the wind. The sound of the seconds as they passed forever in entirety echoed off the wooden walls of the station, and tucked safely in the corner, was an old woman, selling honeyed peanuts that perfumed the air lightly. The benches were empty, with only a half frozen newspaper shifting slightly in the wind and an older man, the ticket collector, dozing off behind a thick glass window, safe from the chill. Breathing in deep the crisp, cold air, she turned her face up again to stare at the clock.

"Hasn't changed at all."  
"Hm?"

She shifted her eyes to meet Vincent's own, the crimson hue not diluted by the white of snow and crystal that surrounded them both. Swathed in black and edged in scarlet, his long figure seemed to be apart of the cracked marbled floor and the wooden panels that hugged every side of the quiet station. Another second echoed around the room and faded to eternity around their heads, and he turned his head, the black of his locks brushing gently against his pale skin.

_It would make sense_, she thought as she surveyed the sway of his cloak as he turned on his heel, presenting his straight back and even stride to the face of the great clock, _that he'd come from here._ She felt a tinge of excitement coursing through her veins as she tried to imagine him as a little kid, his black hair probably running wild upon the winter wind, his long limbs chubbier and shorter, barely able to walk as fast he could now, his one good hand on the handle of the station's door.

Trying to forget how the chill spread from her feet all the way up to her cheeks, she coughed twice, and said, "So erm… ya ever got tired of the snow?"

Suddenly her sight was cut off by a blanket of fabric as it covered her eyes. She let out a bewildered squeal and stumbled back, trying to swat at whatever covered her head.

"That's like asking if you hate the Wutai mountains."

She blushed once at his words and then blushed again when she pulled furiously and stared at his cape in her hands, the free buckles slapping against the wind and the frayed edges gently beating against her body. Lifting her eyes, she saw Vincent turn to her, his eyes soft.

"You can't walk out there, wearing next to nothing."  
"THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH HOW I DRESS!"

He paused, his hand covering the lower part of his face, hiding his slight smile as Yuffie struggled to put the cape over her thin shoulders. It was much too long for her, and the end of the cape trailed along the floor as she struggled to walk without tripping.

"Better yet, why don't you stay here until I go out and get you a coat?"  
"Whacha gonna do then?"

"I'm used to it."

Turning his back to the station door, Vincent shifted his eyes to stare into Yuffie's own rifled with a keen sense of fierceness. He smiled, this time, letting his lips curl into happy amusement as he walked out of the door, overhearing the long string of curses that flooded from Yuffie's mouth.

"STUPID VINCENT! WHATCHA THINK I AM? SOME PET?" And when the door of the station closed completely, Yuffie's eyes soften and she lowered her head to stare at her red tipped fingers, the breaths that escaped from her mouth. In the space over her head, the clock ticked away seconds that fluttered lightly to land against her cheek.

It was his type of kiss.  
--

On both sides of the street, there were street lamps molded to look like teardrops frozen in the midst of cold air. The corner store was still called Rein-dear's, though Vincent was always puzzled by how the small candy-store managed to produce such huge lollipops. The stream from outside the bakery was scented with small clouds of perfume and with one extended hand, Vincent reached out and pulled the scent of caramel towards his face. He remembered the courtyard at the center of town, filled with evergreens and the chirping of birds fattened by thrown breadcrumbs. He remembered the brilliance of sunlight striking the snowfields, the cry of children skiing and snowboarding outside the town gates.

" Out of the lab already?"

Vincent let himself linger outside the bakery for a second more, bending his long frame nearly in half to peer at the assembled cakes and cookies. He lifted a finger to tap against the window, right where a magnificent seven-layer cake stood. The sugar and the chocolate almost steeped through the glass and into his smiling mouth.

"Gilon!"

He turned in time to flash his crimson eyes towards a brilliantly smiling woman. She was radiant in green, emerald sleeves that draped to the ground, an obi of yellow and orange. Vincent was thinking of spring when she bowed nervously, revealing the rosy cheeks of the baby she carried on her back.

"So sorry. I thought –"

"ZURI!" Vincent took a step back as a younger girl, with a horse's mane of midnight hair, tug at Zuri's slender hand. When she grinned unabashedly up at Vincent's face, he saw the gap between her two front cheek, eyes as unbroken as Yuffie's own.

"Don't harass my sister, mister." She stuck out her tongue as Zuri shook her head, shaking loose strands from her thick braid. "I was harassing him, Tegan."

In the face of such happiness, Vincent grew silent, retreating into the shadow as midnight brushed against leaf-green sleeves, cold fingers prodded rosy cheeks. Giggling, laughing, they walked together down the street, Zuri throwing one last look over her shoulder.

He waited until they were out of sight. With a sigh that sent a cloud of white breath high over his head, Vincent ran his hand though his hair, pulling apart the ends of one thick bang. Only when he lowered his eyes did he notice how tightly he gripped his hand, how the bag he carried was wrinkled within his grasp.  
--

"See that?"  
"Yeah, yeah."

"It looks like its from Wutai."  
"Don't do it."

"Aw, come on, it'll make her real happy."  
"Tynan, don't. It's not nice."

"Hey, you stay here, okay?"  
--

His steps sounded like stone. His breathing, weighed and crashed against the floor as heavily as his footsteps.

She uncrossed her arms, lifting one hand high over her head before reaching out to grab him by the collar of his shirt. With a grunt, Yuffie stood from the hard bench of the train station and lifted him bodily off the ground.

Her eyes widen as her lips peeled back to reveal her clenched teeth. Vincent called it her scary face and in one swift movement, she unclasped the buckle of her shuriken's harness and brought one sharp edge against the boy's neck.

"You thinkin' bout stealin' this?"  
"WHAT ARE YOU CRAZY? PUT THAT THING AWAY!"

"Yuffie."

She turned to meet Vincent's level stare and turned her eyes back to the struggling boy. And she saw, echoed in his eyes, the same dark fringes, the clear cut lines around his eyes. Sapphire eyes narrowed and the boy lifted his hands to swat at Yuffie's arm.

"WHAT ARE YOU CRAZY?"

She turned completely towards Vincent, holding the boy by the scruff of his shirt. Her eyes widen when she saw – the raven of his hair matched Vincent's own. The boy followed Yuffie's glance only to let out a scream of joy.

"GILON!"  
--

"You sure you want do this?"

He turned emerald eyes out the window, watching snow as it gathered in tiny clouds underneath his nose. His shock of red hair glowed in the dim of the train. Long slender fingers gripped the handle of his gun, the edge of his teaser hoistered securely at his waist. He wiped the back of one hand against the corner of his mouth and nodded, placing chapped lips against the phone's reciever.

"Turks finish the job, yo!"

Silence and then softly, the reply; "You better sruvive this, Reno."  
--

_author's notes; okay, first thing's first... I'm sorry that it took me so long to post up a new chapter. college is crazy what can I say?? I also want to say, please keep up with this story, no matter how erratic my updates are. I've been, believe it or not, working hard to keep this story going. this chapter may seem a bit off, but there's actually a lot going on that will be brought up in other chapters. please enjoy!!_


	23. shadow

**shadow **

"_Another one walks."_  
"_Leave her be, brother."_

She walked in uneven steps, first a half stride with her left foot and then a wide step with her right. Spreading her slight arms, she turned, as if to embrace the sudden glare of the sun, the clamshell pink that danced off the low clouds.

"_Just a kid."_  
"_That's why we should leave her alone."_

She waited for Tynan as promised, crouching by the corner of the train station, clutching her shoulders with both hands. But then the church bells chimed and she heard the echo of the approaching train. And with one hand brushing the snow off her tights, she stood, zipping her jacket all the way to top. She ignored the blatant stares of the storekeepers as she walked, as if in a trance, down the street, her arms hugging the cool of the snow and wind both.

"_Does she not feel her blood – our blood, crying out to one another?"_  
"_I hope she never does."_

As if something greater than instinct guided her, Soleil lifted her eyes and glanced over her shoulder, towards the crowd of trees that hugged the side of town. She saw shadow, and beyond that, a tiny glisten of icicles, drinking the faded pink/gold of the sunset. Her eyes, in their ethereal glow, narrowed and she wrapped both her hands over herself, a vise, a cross to protect her from harm.

And she ran, sending snow flying with her footsteps, breaking ice with the sharp ends of her black boots. She never paused to look around or about her, choosing instead to run straight home, to a tiny house situated on top of a hill shaded with the open branches of evergreens.  
--

Between the late sunrise and the early sunset, there was only about seven hours of daylight before the town was plunged into darkness littered with the tiny flashes of stars. There were icicles that hung from every corner of every house on every street and with the setting sun, they sparkled like jewels.

Between dusk and night was his favorite time to wheel himself out of the house and sit underneath the awning of the front porch. With a blanket wrapped round and round his knees, he called out to whoever walked by waving his cane with one hand. His cheeks flared rosy red, startlingly bright against his white hair and the wrinkles on his face looked like new snow, brushed with the wind.

He could not see the colors of the sunset, or the light that danced off the icicles and landed on his lap like a scattering of rainbow stars. He could not see even his own daughter, fiddling with the strap of her snowboard as she trudged up the street, leading a green kimono-clad woman by the hand.

But he heard them; Zuri's moccasins sending drifts of snow with her light steps, Tegan's boots stomping and kicking, their laughter. Over his shoulder, he heard the cries of his grandson, his wife singing a lullaby, the soft echoes of her voice drifting to linger over his head like a kiss.

He lifted his head in anticipation, his arms raised and spread open to catch Tegan's laughing, running body.

"DAD!"  
--

A splash of purple danced across her open palm as she lifted her eyes to focus on Vincent's figure. His long hair was tied clumsily at the nape of his neck and the hair that fell over his shoulders looked like a horse's tail; his fingers tapped uneasily by his side. The boy, after bowing and bobbing his head viciously before her skeptical eyes, introduced himself as Tynan ("But just call me Ty, okay? Please?") before grabbing hold of Vincent's wrist.

He begged and pleaded to meet his brother, the look-alike and with a sigh and a scowl, Vincent nodded his consent, pausing only once to give her a strict once-over. In retaliation, she struck out her tongue and hurried to put on the jacket that Vincent wordlessly offered her.

Now, walking through the streets of Great Glacier, Yuffie wanted to smack herself. Only Vincent would have brought a jacket the same crimson of his cape, stitched with black leaves and oversized buttons. The blush that flared across her cheeks when Tynan snickered at their similar outfits hadn't faded, making Yuffie even more disgruntled with every step.

But it felt good, too, to wear his colors. She could almost feel his arms around her as she walked, wrapped in the crimson of his eyes.

Almost.

Tynan still threw looks over his shoulder every once in a while to snicker, causing Yuffie to alternatively threaten to cut off his stupid hair-cut (which bared a remarkable resemblance to Cloud's spikes), and bury the lower part of her face in the jacket's upturned collar.

"It's called AID and Gilon's the head, ya know?" Tynan stuck out his tongue at Yuffie, before turning to look up at Vincent's face. Though he kept his eyes focused on the road ahead, never lowering his eyes to look into Tynan's own, Tynan saw his brother in Vincent. The long line of his jaw reminded Tynan of Gilon each time he got angry, flipping the lapels of his lab coat in frustration. "It's sorta small, and it's in this crummy-ass old lab-"

"-A laboratory?" When Vincent spoke, it was nothing like Gilon's good-natured, soft voice but cut with an edge that reminded Tynan of his father's. Tynan nodded, lifting both arms high over his head to stretch. "Yeah, just some place near the edge of town. Nothin' special."

He heard Yuffie's unhappy, angry stomping and knew she was following a few steps behind. Tynan chatted up a storm by his side, occasionally tugging at Vincent's arm to make a point. Vincent never let his eyes drift from the street ahead of him; he couldn't bare to look at the boy who walked so closely to his one good hand, giggling and crinkling the corners of his blue eyes with each smile.

He could feel the weight of it all, sinking into his skin. His steps on the snow were still the print of boots, the type of tracks a human would make. It momentarily surprised him; Vincent never felt such uneasiness as he did now, walking down the streets of a past so blurry, he could only remember echoes of voices, the shadows of memories. When they turned the corner, the boy pointed towards a store, with a window displaying a sparkling crystal tree, its branches weighed down by heavy bracelets of gold and silver.

"That's Coleman's shop – got the best gauntlets and everythin' there." Tynan held up his left wrist, proudly pulling down the sleeve of his down-filled jacket to display a leather cuff, intricately detailed and set with silver studs. "Gilon, who ya gonna meet, got this for my birthday. Coleman's makes the best armor."

Vincent lifted his eyes to follow the boy's outstretched finger and saw behind Coleman's sparkling display, a phantom building with a wooden sign, faded red letters that danced over a dusty display of old trinkets and rusted knives. In Vincent's mind, it wasn't Coleman's Accessory Store, but rather, the antique store he spent his teenage years working in, brushing dust off the assorted trinkets with one long rag, ringing up the few sales on the old register and reading the same book by the light of the streetlamp.

When Tynan pointed to the bakery, Vincent saw the clothing store his father brought him to, eagerly requesting Vincent to be civil to his date, that no, the Winter Formal was not a stupid excuse to show off how rich everyone was.

And when Tynan and Yuffie, who was more curious than angry, gathered in front of the brightly lit windows of Bauchbinger's Lil' Toy Shop, Vincent stayed back, a long shadow cloaked in red. Bauchbinger ran a coffee shop once, right next to his Toy Workshop and Vincent could hear his father's laugh ringing out, his father's large hands awkwardly curled around tiny china cups.

"HOLY SHIT! You kiddin' me?"  
"No way. You can get one of those for like 20 gil, easy."

Yuffie pounded eagerly at the window, slamming her cold fingers against the glass. Her eyes watched the spinning motor of the toy airplanes, the whimsical tin man who sat in the cockpit, waving one hand.

It'll be the perfect gift for a pilot's baby.

"Vincent! Look, look! We can buy it for Cid's ba-"

She turned in time to catch Vincent's face, the expression of pain that etched itself deeply into the corners of his tightly drawn lips, lifting up to curl around the corners of his downcast eyes.

He couldn't bare to look at her, and so he turned his attention to the side of the store, long trails of his black hair striking against his turned cheek. "It's all well and good Yuffie, but have you forgotten why we're here?"

His voice crackled in mid-air, frozen and relentless. "Did you?"

Yuffie stomped her foot, sending up a spray of snow that fell against Tynan's jacket. The boy shifted his eyes to stare at Yuffie's contorted face, her hands curled in anger.

"Doncha be givin' me that! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO SAID YOU WANTED TO MEET THIS KID'S BROTHER TOO!"  
"I was mistaken."

Tynan turned his stare in time to catch Vincent's face, fully illuminated by the streetlamp. His breath was stolen by the sight of Vincent's crimson eyes, flashing almost ruby in anger. His brother never looked that cold.

"WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM!?!?"

"I have no interest in meeting any possible look-alikes." He brought one hand to rest against the jaunt of his hip, his eyes lowering to stare at Tynan. "Thank you for the tour of your city."

She struck first, bringing her left leg swiftly to the side of his stomach. Effortlessly, Vincent grabbed her ankle and stared into Yuffie's angry face. With a grunt, she brought her other leg to crash against the side of Vincent's left thigh, striking his body with the tip of her foot. They fell together into the snow, the tips of Vincent's claw gently pressing against the soft of Yuffie's forearm, his other hand wrapped tightly over Yuffie's wrist to drag her down.

Tynan blinked in surprise, pressing his back against the lit window of the toy store. He let out a grin, recalling the fights he had with his sister, hurling pillows and shoes and silly insults while they stomped their feet and screamed.

She collapsed onto Vincent's chest, closing her eyes to inhale his scent, to feel the broadness of his muscles with her light touch. But then, d with the sheer force of her legs, she swung herself back off the ground and offered an open palm to Vincent. He looked away and she forced her hand into his, holding onto his long fingers, her face a snarl.

"STUPID PUNK! Whatcha think ya pullin' here?"

Yuffie lifted her face to look into Vincent's own and saw the trace of tears that hugged the corners of his eyes. Her angry scowl collapsed in upon itself, fading into the quiet of her lowered mouth. She lifted a hand to reach for a piece of his fallen hair, letting her fingers separate into strands. She saw the shimmer in his eyes.

"Yuffie, I –" His voice lowered to the soft silk that she adored, the type of voice she wanted to wrap around her shoulders until all she heard was the beating of her heart, fast, quickly raising.

He lifted a hand to curl around Yuffie's wrist, gently pulling her fingers away from his hair when he caught the sight of a shadow lurking near the corner of the store. Vincent's eyes widen and turned swiftly to glance at Tynan's open face, the midnight black of his hair and the sapphire of his eyes. He pressed an open palm against Yuffie's left side, his fingers clutching at the pockets of her jacket. He withdrew one of her long throwing knives, the sharp edge drinking in the coming twilight. Her mouth opened, as if in protest when he drew her to him, pressing chapped lips against the soft of her ear.

"Stay with him, Yuffie."

The knife's tip sank against the soft of his wrist as he pushed Yuffie against the wall and turned to chase after the shadow, his long cloak disappearing like a phantom around the corner.

"VINCENT!" The boy's hand over Yuffie's own felt warm and with a stomp of her foot and a fail of her arms, she sent the boy sprawling against the snow.

"Go home, kid. Sorry for all this, 'kay?"

She paused to salute him, two fingers pressed against the corner of her forehead, her brilliant grin never quite meeting her eyes. Tynan could only wordlessly watch as she unwrapped the cloth around her shuriken, shouldering the heavy weapon easily over her left shoulder.

She turned, her eyes closed to catch the sound of Vincent's footsteps. Luckily for her, Vincent was as silent as any of the ninjas she trained with, and perhaps just as fast. She spoke just once more,

"I mean it. Go home."

With one running start, she grabbed a hold of the streetlamp and swung herself effortlessly onto the roof of Buchbinger's, landing so silently that the packed snow did not even stir. The shuriken seemed to cut darkness in half as her legs seemed to tense. He watched, breath caught in rapture as Yuffie took a flying leap off the roof and flipped onto the neighboring building. He watched the shadows playing against the sharp edge of the shuriken, the howl of the wind severing upon impact and how graceful she was in mid-leap, suspended in the air before landing so silently that only the hair upon her head stirred.

Tynan read about ninjas, even went so far as tying strips of black fabric around his forehead and running in a wildly exaggerated fashion, slanting his arms behind his back, leaning his shoulders and torso forward as his bare feet cut through the carpet of his house.

But no book or cartoon could have ever prepared Tynan for the sight of her, morphing into a shadow only to reappear as a fragment of sight, a shimmer upon the snow, a slight footprint against the snow. He watched her, tracing her path even after he was certain all he was staring at was darkness, absolute and complete.  
--

"Tegan?"

She looked up in time to catch her father wheeling himself to the center of the living room, his hands already wrapped tightly around the base of his earphones. She turned to him, bangs heavily matted to her forehead by the force of the frost against the window.

She heard Zuri's singing, the cries of her nephew as they walked together, as one, up and down the hallway, and from the kitchen drifted the scent of her mother's cooking, heavily speckled with ginger and garlic, the steam of rice and the jasmine tea. The lights were a warm gold, and still Tegan shivered.

"Tynan and Leil aren't home yet."

Her father smiled, causing his opaque sapphire eyes to crinkle at the corners. Streaks of white literally dotted his black hair and still, his smile was as young and bold as Tegan's.

"Thought you were angry at him."  
"Still am, but it's gettin' late."

She tighten her hold on the snowboard harness she still wore, stomping lightly against the carpet with the edge of her boot. He smiled at the sound.

"Then go on, Tegan and bring 'em back for dinner."

Squealing, Tegan hurried to zip up her jacket and grab for her board, lying at an awkward angle on the corner of the sofa. She twirled, fastening the snowboard securely into its harness while grabbing for her father's hand at the same time.

"Don't worry, Dad, I'll beat Tynan senseless!"  
"And make sure to bring Gilon home too."

"Yeah sure –" She paused briefly to yell something to her mother and was out, running wildly though the snow even before the door had a chance to slam back on its frame.  
"Romulus! You just did NOT let our daughter go out there, unattended at the dark of night!!!!!"

Romulus lifted his head in the direction of his wife's voice and smiling, turned on his mp3 player as loud as it could go. The living room lingered with a slight phantom of Tegan's smell – cinnamon with a dusting of the snow found on the very tip of Great Glacier's highest mountain.  
--

She could see them, two shadows clashing in the darkness, sending flashes of electricity and the faded color of red through the winter pitch of night. A ninja can smell the scent of battle and to her, it smelled of rain, the snow beneath her feet melting with the weight of her memory. Crouching at the edge of the train station's tower, she recalled, the faint taste of mango gum.

What was it that she said to that man back at Scar?

_You all consumed. And you can die like that if you want._

She pressed her palms together, lifted them to her forehead in prayer. She unfastened the straps that secured her shuriken to her back, tighten the strings of the gauntlet she wore underneath her sweater, the iron cuff she wore around her leg. She heard the gunshot, saw the glimmer of gunpowder before it landed to dirty the pristine snow. Her legs tensed, and she closed her eyes, preparing for the jump off the tower and onto the roof of the building below. It wouldn't take long to reach where Vincent was; the taste of mango gum was acidic against her lips.

And then she heard the scream, a girl's slicing the night, pulling back Yuffie's eyes from the roofs to the street below.

Even from as high as Yuffie's perch, she could see how young the girl was, almost like a doll in her fur-lined clothes. Even the dim glare of the streetlamp was not enough to hide the fact that the girl's eyes glowed, like Cloud's, like Vincent's. It was the reflection of Mako. Yuffie felt his presence before she saw him. She felt muscle and black leather, silver hair and those damn eyes.

She glanced once more at the rooftop, in time to see Vincent's face lit by a sudden flare of light, the hot hiss of electricity eating away at crimson fabric. It was the face she loved.

She thought strange things when she was scared. She thought of how slightly bitter Vincent's lips were, the sight of her hand against Denzel's spiked hair, the single dandelion Vincent offered her, offhandedly in response to Denzel's bouquet of flowers, her father's bowed head and strangled tears at the altar, praying for her mother's happiness in the afterlife.

Her hand trembled. On the street below, she saw the girl fall against the snow, throwing up her hands in fear. It was the same fear that shook Yuffie's hands, until the tip of her shuriken almost cut a line across her leg. Vincent's skin was as pale as the snow. She loved him so much that it scared her, espeically at night when the shadows were more then shadows but memory and doubt personfied. Vincent gave her more happiness then she would ever like to admit.

Yuffie knew, without a single doubt in her mind, that there was no way. That she was half as strong as Tifa was, that no ninja can take on a Solider (that's why Wutai fell, wasn't it?). But underneath the fear that rendered her voice useless, Yuffie felt anger.

Because of how Cloud's blood ran through her fingers like rain, because of Yazoo's goofy grin and the tears Denzel cried at Cloud's side, Yuffie held her shuriken in front of her and free-fell.

Loz didn't know what hit him, from that high above.  
--

Before he fell, before his life flashed before his eyes (what he remembered the most about home was the summer when his grandfather taught him to roll cigars, rough things wrapped in strips of bark that he had to sell down by the riverbank where all the fishermen were. He would sit for hours afterwards, smelling his fingers, how the tobacco smell would never leave the crest between his skin and fingernail), before he closed his eyes and tried to remember the faces of every woman he ever fucked (and the one woman he desperately wanted to), a hand grabbed a hold of his wrist. His feet kicked against the side of the building, his fingers clutching the air above.

He glanced up to stare into crimson eyes, lit like fire.

"What you doin' here, yo?"

Vincent tightened his fist, bodily lifting Reno from the edge of the roof with one hand. And though Reno panted and huffed his exhaustion, even though blood flowed from the corner of Reno's half open mouth, Vincent's face was a blank.

Reno saw death reflected in Vincent's eyes.

"I could ask you the same thing, Reno."  
--

_Author's notes: I was starting to get discouraged by the low-hit rate of this story, as well as the fact that my Alerts and Favorites stats were constantly lowering. I was actually on the verge of just forgetting this story. I mean, between college and the creative writing I have to do there for my BA.. however, I wrote this chapter in two days time and fell back in love with this story. So hurrah!! I guess tergiversation's going to keep on going, even if just for a little bit longer. _


	24. chain reaction

_You can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you cannot imprison my mind**  
****-- Gandhi **_

**chain reaction**

When the first tear fell, he stopped then, his finger frozen, still pressed lightly against the gun's trigger. He stopped to stare into emerald eyes and saw.

Fighter, soldier, assassin, bodyguard.

Whatever the phrase, word or term, he knew for day one that in the end, it amounted to one thing; pawn.

His father loved science, the study of how things work and how tiny molecules formed in the air to spontaneously combine and create life itself. With a tattered pair of snowshoes laced tightly to the bottom of his boots, his father would walk slowly around and around the old laboratory, head lifted to gaze pass the light blue, winter sky as if to stare through the clouds to look at the infinity of space.

He lived in his father's shadow, and yet, life was sweet. A fascination for explosives and the art of artillery and marksmanship seemed to pave a path that lead directly to Shinra Electrical Company's ongoing, almost militaristic campaign. When the first war stared, he begged and pleaded his father to let him go. Instead, his father turned a deaf ear and began to train him in alchemy, which was quickly being called magic by the rest of the world. Alchemy was the art of using Materia and cultivating its true potential. Hidden in a snowy village at the end of the world, his father tried to keep him safe from the rage of war and of memory stained crimson. In a house on top of a hill, shaded by evergreen trees, in a village with perpetual falling snow, he learned. He poured his heart into learning alchemy, of studying what Materia can and cannot do. It was a simple life and he knew he was blessed.

And yet. When asked, he said yes and stole away without his father's content, paying respect by burning sticks of incense and smearing its ashes across the threshold of the house. When asked, he waited till darkness, till the house rocked with the silence of his brother's stilled breaths and his father's light snores. When asked, he ran all the way to the train station and signed away his name and his life.

For that day on, he was Vincent Valentine, 1st gunman for the Investigation Division of the General Affairs Department of Shinra – better known as the Turks.

The first month of training was conducted in a cell, deep underground, in the shadow of Shinra's fledging city, Midgar. The air was damp, metallic and he could feel the electricity surging from the corners of the room. In that cell, he learned what it meant to fire a gun.

He saw the dark corners of the cell, etched in shadow, reflected in Reno's green eyes/ He could taste even the metal of the cell's bars in each of Reno's tired breaths. He lowered his crimson eyes and saw the same suit he once wore, head held high, both arms outstretched, proudly showing off to his brother. He saw naïve pride in Reno and it woke him from his trance. His eyes widen in surprise, as if he suddenly came to the realization of what he was just on the verge of doing, what other sin he was about to commit.

Vincent lowered his gun, edging the barrel from Reno's temple and slowly let go of Reno's collar.

"That's what 'm talkin' bout Vinny-boy! Don't go all emo, yo."

A single bullet whizzed by Reno's ear only to shatter a light from one of the streetlamps below. Reno gulped, straightening his goggles with one hand and trying to stop his other hand from shaking with fear.

Vincent struggled against the edge of the roof, cradling his left arm with his right hand, his gun still pointed toward Reno. His black hair was plastered by sweat and his lip was swollen, first by one of Reno's vicious kicks and then by a well-placed shock from Reno's electrical teaser. Blood steeped from his nose in two, almost lacelike trails and Vincent could feel his demons roaring.

His vision blurred, his heartbeat rose to his ears.

"Who sent you here? Reeve? Rufus? Tseng, himself?"

Reno wiped viciously at the claw marks on his face, the side of his stomach aching. It was his fault for starting the fight anyway; he knew now never to tease Vincent Valentine about pedophilia, obsession and/or vampirism. He knew now never to follow up such insults with a swift kick to the jaw, followed by more insults. ("Yo, Yazoo's still alive, or did you bring him back to that shithole you call yo house?").

Vincent asked the same question again, this time walking close enough to be within arm's length of Reno. "Who was it?"

"Don't remember, yo!"

He turned then, sending his cape over his shoulder with one hand, the long trail of scarlet riding the night wind. When he spoke, his voice was soft, as delicate as the snow that continued to fall around their shoulders.

"Lesson for today, Reno. Do not interfere with my affairs."

He held up his claw, the metal catching the reflection of the thin sliver of the crescent moon. The snow did not melt upon impact with the cold metal, and instead remained frozen at the claw's sharp tips, sparkling like crystal. The click of the gun securing into its holster was enough for Reno to step back, his arms raised in preemptive defense.

"And do not concern yourself with Yazoo, either."

"Yo, I don't be takin' no orders from the likes of you!"

With one single flying leap, Vincent jumped from the edge of the roof (the cape bellowing behind him looked like a single wing on fire) and landed silently on the metal awning in front of the building. He lifted his eyes to meet Reno's, his voice lifting up into the air with its sternness.

"That wasn't an order, Reno."

His eyes narrowed, frozen in severity.

"It was a warning."  
--

When Soleil and Tynan first met, his sapphire eyes were warm, warmer than the fire that crackled merrily in the stone archway of the fireplace. She remembered his family flocked in chairs and corners, each wearing a smile that seemed too big for their faces, their eyes staring nervously at each other or in quick, tense glances to her eyes. The father, blind and missing the bottom half of his left leg, sat at the center of the room, his wheelchair casting an odd shadow over her slight body.

"So, kid, are you going to make this easy on yourself?"  
"I said I don't wanna go!!!"

She wanted to run, to leave that place of normalcy and make for the mountains. And then she heard his voice, breaking the silence with an unparalleled amount of kindness.

"_Dad, she's pretty!"_

She remembered when they kissed for the first time, underneath the sprawling branches of the cypress that stood behind his school. They bumped into together because she was running away from a pack of kids who started to throw snowballs pierced with tiny sharp fragments of ice and he was running to the lift, his snowboard already underneath his left arm.

"You are. The question was, are you going to make this easy for your own sake?"  
"Stay away!"

He saw her crying and spectacularly fought each of her assailants, rapping his knuckles viciously against the forehead of the biggest, meanest boy. His snowboard was cracked in half and his nose dripped blood by the end of it. Crying, she asked if anything hurt and he grabbed a fistful of snow and smeared crimson against the snow's pure white.

"Can't you hear the call? Your blood is raging, isn't it?"  
"STOP IT!"

He let pink, splotched snow fall from his fingers and made a movement for her to follow him back home. She lifted her face to his and they kissed, magnificently, trapping a bit of the frigid air between their mouths.

"Stop pretending you can't feel it."  
"GO AWAY!!"

Tynan held his hand behind his back, waiting for her gloved fingers to grasp for his own, and when Soleil did, he turned slightly to smile at her. Hand in hand, they walked home.

"What did they call you – Soleil? That's not the name you were given."  
"I said –"

Just like that first day she met Tynan, she felt his eyes on her before she could open her mouth to let out a scream. The memory of pink snow falling from his fingers, the cracked halves of the snowboard littering the steps of the school and his lips brushing against hers slammed against her stomach and rose to momentarily blind her.

Her heart seemed to still, just for one second as Tynan ran into Loz's stomach, throwing his fist high into the air to hopelessly flail against Loz's face. And then she screamed, watching Loz bodily grab Tynan by the collar, shaking the snow from his shoulders, his midnight black hair.

"Get the hell away from her, pervert." Tynan narrowed his eyes, staring into the ethereal glimmer of Loz's cerulean eyes, the unholy shimmer of irises that seemed to dilate in the filtered, dim streetlights. He kicked viciously at Loz's leather-clad body, the tips of his shoes barely reaching. His arms, like tiny fluttering wings, pounded repeatedly against Loz's arm and with one wild scream, he begged Soleil to run.

"Go! Get out of here!"

Soleil shook her head, sending the flutters of her silver hair fluttering against the pale paper of her face. Loz turned to her then, his smile a cruel mockery.

"You know exactly what I'll do to him if you run away."

He tightened his grasp on Tynan's neck, squeezing his fingers just enough to make Tynan's veins jump with the sudden loss of air. His sapphire eyes closed in pain, and his hands tried to pry at Loz's grip. His legs kicked, harder then ever, swift kicks that sank into the pit of Loz's stomach and still, Loz kept his face turned towards Soleil's sprawled figure.

Tynan grunted, his mouth open to attempt to force air into his choking face. Loz tightened his grasp against and held Tynan's body high into the air, turning to allow Soleil to stare at Tynan's writhing figure.

"Understand?"

Tynan grunted, shaking his head viciously with each of Loz's spoken words. His eyes flickered nervously towards Soleil, widen in surprise and then in pain (of the emotional kind) as he watched Soleil slowly get up and nod, her eyes averted from Tynan's.

Lox grinned, flashing teeth as white as snow, lips curled like a raging wolf, "Now, let's get going."

"AS IF!"

First it was just the slice of the wind, separating in two against the sharp edge of what looked like a silver flower, descending out of the pitch black sky itself. And then, there was the sound of metal tearing against leather, ripping through skin and Loz's howl of pain, head thrown back and hands already grasping at his shoulder. Tynan was dropped to the snow, only to be steadied by a slender, gentle hand.

He glanced up to see Yuffie's brilliant smile, her foot stomping the snow in frustration.

"GODDAMN PUNK! Didn't I tell you to go the hell home?"

She grabbed for one of the clean points of her shuriken and ripped the embedded edge from Loz's shoulder. A squirt of blood fell into the snow, pure unadulterated red, as Yuffie turned once more to Tynan and Soleil, who ran to his side with wide, scared eyes.

"Y'all be listening to me this time, 'kay?"

Tynan nodded, and grabbing Soleil's hand, tore through the shadows and around the buildings, legs pounding as quickly as they could.

Yuffie unhooked one of her throwing knives, twirled the handle around until the blade laid securely across the flat of her wrist and hoisted her shuriken to her right shoulder. She took the first defensive stance, her left leg low to the ground, her right leg kneeling at a sharp 90 degree angle.

_For a ninja, every battle must be fought as if it is the last._

Her father's words echoed in her head and began the steady beating of her heart. She inhaled, taking a deep breath and waited for Loz's next move. Crouching there, in the snow, Yuffie was as silent as shadow, as alert as the moon.

He eyed her, staring first at her eyes, the calm, collected glare that meet him evenly. Loz's fingers ran over the wound of his shoulder and felt embedded there, the sharp tip of metal. Lifting his eyes quickly, he saw all five points of her shuriken were in tact. And then, the glimmer of something silver in her left hand made his eyes widen with pleasant surprise.

A ninja was a warrior who attacked like a thief. Loz wouldn't make the same mistake again.

"You were lucky."

Loz's fingers worked at his wound as he spoke, his eyes never leaving Yuffie's crouched body. He walked around and around, the tracks of his pacing feet appearing like a ring around Yuffie's silent self.

"But that won't happen again." He pried the metal from his shoulder with two fingers and held the 1 inch needle over his head, as if to survey its sharp point by the light of the moon. From the needle's edge dripped blood, perfect circles of ruby that sounded like rain.

He threw the needle at Yuffie's face and that's when she attacked, spinning the handle of her knife so the blade sang in the air, her lithe body springing forward with a feline grace. Her knife flashed against his throat, cutting a clear line, as thin as wire, across the edge of his jaw. She landed behind Loz, swinging her shuriken to catch the edge of Loz's leg and send him sprawling against the snow. She aimed a kick to the back of his head, causing his face to jerk forward at the time of his fall backwards and in one vicious movement, she sank the edge of the knife into the small of Loz's back and twisted her hand, until the handle broke off, until she knew the knife was too deep for Loz to remove.

He fell and silence came. Yuffie stood by his feet, her shuriken still lifted high over her head. Her eyes narrowed. The silence was deep.

And then, it came. His laugh, his eyes glittering.

"What chance did you really think you had?"  
--

In her twenty-three years of life, she had never seen as much snow as this. When he sat down, she flashed a smile his way, straightening the edge of her blazer with both hands.

"Gorgeous isn't it, Rude?"

Rude's sunglasses glimmered, catching the reflection of the train's light. He tried to sound calm, serene, but Reno's voice still danced in his ear.

"Elena, we're be arriving at Great Glacier shortly. Please try to contain yourself until then."

When she lifted her arms to stretch, Rude could catch the sight of her gun holster, the sharp glimmer of her Magnum that rested securely there, as if in sleep. Even the dim of the train could not diminish her beauty, the full lips provocatively sucking the end of a dying cigarette.

"Yeah, yeah. I told Tseng it was stupid to send Reno first and then us. We oughta have stayed together, like a unit, right Rude?"

She turned to get his confirmation, perhaps in the form of a tight smile or a half chuckle but Rude was staring at his hands, clutching almost helplessly at the brass knuckles that laid on his upturned palms.

"Yeah."  
--

**You have reached the voicemail box of** Rude.. YO RUDE! GIVE THEM YOUR LAST NAME, YO!** Please leave a message at the sound of the beep.** **Beep** Rude? Yo, you guys here yet? Yo, hurry up, you know. **Beep.  
--**

They could see the familiar awning of Gilon's laboratory, the porch light as warm as a smile. Their running shadows looked like birds in flight.

Tynan squeezed Soleil's hand and turned to smile down at her. When they were safe inside his brother's lab, safe behind locks and metal doors, Tynan would kiss her again, comfortingly, phoning his father to tell him that they were both okay.

Tynan could see the outline of the door from where they were, running as fast as they could down the street.

The moon above appeared to fade, the night sky at the verge of becoming the soft grey of early morning.

He felt it first, the slack of Soleil's fingers and turning his head, he saw the explosion of blood from her back. Before he could scream, before he could cry, Tynan saw him. He saw Loz in torn, blood stained leather, a pair of throwing knives glittering in his raised fingers.

Soleil fell to the snow, her face buried as her back blossomed one giant red flower to steep and ooze.

The night, as deep as it was, as dark as it was, lifted to reveal a dirty grey sky. The shadows shortened, wings becoming nothing more but legs, Tynan's face before it split in half, breaking all his joy in one cruel, severe blow.  
--

He saw the crimson cape first, the frayed edges more real then the dried blood that hugged his cheek.

"Yo, I know, I know. Be gettin' on my way, you know."

"Reno."

Vincent stood, his long hair floating over his shoulder with his sudden movement. Reno saw suddenly the blood that ran like rivers, sinking dirty fingers into the snow. He smelled the aftermath of the fight, the glimmer of discarded weapons – the shuriken plunged deep into the snow, as if it was a grave-marker.

A shuriken.

His eyes widen in disbelief. Tears sprang to the corner of Reno's eyes and for the first time in his life, he could pinpoint exactly the moment his heart stopped pounding from the overwhelming realization of it all.

Vincent removed his cape, the buckles striking against his claw as he crouched by Yuffie's sprawled, still body. He kissed her open, bleeding mouth just once and wrapped her in his cape, pushing back her hair from her closed eyes. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing at all and turned to face Reno.

He pressed her into Reno's chest, his arms clumsily reaching up to wrap around Yuffie's body. Vincent spoke softly, his hand running across Yuffie's forehead gently.

"Stay with her, Reno."

The sky suddenly lightened and staring into Vincent's face, Reno saw the specks of gold that was embedded in the red; it shimmered like fire. He turned from Reno then, his hand wrapped firmly around the handle of his gun.

"Yo! You can't do this –"

Reno looked into Yuffie's face, felt the warmth of her blood as it steeped from her stomach, her mouth, her legs. He shivered, holding onto her unconscious body as he watched Vincent walk away, never turning back once to stare at Reno.

"- Alone!"

His words were meet with nothing.  
--

_What is it that you want?_

First it was the wings, it was always the wings. His shoulders separated and then flared in pain as his skin ripped open to sprout forth leather wings. And then his jaw unhinged, his teeth growing into fangs that tore the underside of his mouth. He threw back his head to scream at the pain of transforming as his arms lengthened, nails growing to become claws.

When his eyes began to glow unearthly yellow, all traces of Vincent Valentine was submerged, suppressed and ultimately forgotten. With one mighty push, the demon known as Chaos was in the air and flying with furious flaps of wings that sent the piles of snow flying in its wake.

_Retribution.  
--_

_  
Author's notes; yeah, I was surprised how this chapter turned out too. Which is always a good thing. Here's to fighting scenes that took me FOREVER to write. Hope you all enjoyed them. Thanks everyone for your words of encouragement. Be forewarned: tergiversation's just starting to get good. I can't wait to finish up this part of the story, which I refer to as the "What's with all these new characters?" arc. I have quite a lot of surprises in store for everyone. I'm working my hardest to keep this fic alive and well.. thank you all for sticking with it. I'm also staying up ridiculous hours so I can write as much as I can before going back to school. You guys are so sweet for giving me so much support. I didn't know I had such dedicated fans!! Thank you again. _

_A lot of reviewers commented on the speed in which I update this story. I guess I'll let you guys in on a secret – I wasn't lying when I said I was attempting to write a Yuffentine like no other – utterly realistic, appealing to even non-shippers and working in the continuity of the framework of the ff7 world. I've been outlining this story since last May and basically have written how the story will end up. The hardest thing for me as an author is knowing the direction of a story – since I outlined the whole of tergiversation, writing the actual story comes easy. _


	25. the consquence of living

**the consequence of living**

Romulus wasn't born blind. What happened was that there was a terrible flash of light and then searing flame. His leg was crushed under a beam of wood, excruciating pain that could not match the heat of the fire that ravished the laboratory. He cried out for his father and then, because the pain was making him desperate, he cried out for his brother, though he knew his brother was far away, living in the shadows of Midgar's plates.

The last thing he saw was his father, removing his cape to throw it over the shoulders of a slender woman in a long white trench coat, the flash of his father's brilliant blue eyes as he started to weep, openly, like an animal stuck in too small a cage. He wanted to reach out for his father, to tell him don't cry, that everything was going to be okay. Instead, with one last scream, his father pulled him out from the collapsed debris, lifting him from where he fell moments after the explosion. His father half limped, half crawled to an open window and he threw Romulus' bleeding, limp body to lie in the still and silence of snow. There was the warmth of blood, flowing freely from Romulus' torn leg but all he wanted was to see his father, to make sure he got out safely.

He tried and he tried but his eyes could not make out anything but grey and black shadow as blood flowered over the snow. He could not remember blacking out, but when he gained consciousness, he saw only darkness and felt, with a hand that used to be forever entwined in his father's or his brother's own, the stump of his left leg, the phantom pain. His blindness, his amputation; he took it all as eagerly as dry earth takes the rain. It reminded him, every day, the price he had to pay; it was the consequence of living when his father did not.

It took just one knock on the door to stir Romulus from his cat's nap, his eyes literally streaked with tears. He lifted his hand from Tegan's sleeping head (after a frantic search throughout the town, Tegan returned home alone and utterly depressed, both of them choosing to sleep in the living room just in case), and gently lifted his daughter off his lap and onto the sofa. Another knock came, and another, more frantic as Romulus hurried to wheel himself to the foyer, throwing open the door to let in the cool crisp of morning wind.

"Dad! Wake up Zuri, get my kit out!" The sound of his oldest son's voice on any other day would have be enough cause for Romulus to smile in joy, but the frantic nature of his words only made Romulus furrow his eyebrows in worry.

"Gilon, what's the meaning -?"

And his words were cut off as a man with fire hair charged his way into the foyer, upsetting the vase of flowers that stood by the door. The crash of the vase, the pounding of feet, the screams of Gilon and a confused Tegan was enough to send Romulus wheeling back in bewilderment.

"Please –" It was the way the stranger's voice strained against his throat, the way the words seemed to roll around his mouth to collapse against the empty spaces above their heads.

"Please help her."

It reminded Romulus of himself, years and years ago, sitting in the forever dark of his world, the cool slab of the operating table underneath his skin, crying out again and again for his brother, knowing that there will be no answer, no warm hand or gentle smile.

It was the same desperation Romulus once had, waking up and realizing that he was perhaps alone in the world after all.

--

What made her fall to her knees was the sight of the shuriken the man with fire-red hair carried. She knew it wasn't the stranger's but belonged to the unconscious girl who bled in waves on the bed she shared with Gilon, her husband busy wrapping bandages around the girl's slender, nude torso.

With a cry, she sank to her knees, the flutter of her kimono sleeves like leaves to fall like a shade across her crying face.

She spent too much time here at the village near the end of the world, where snow could cover her memories with happier times. She's forgotten what it meant to be born and raised as a warrior, as a ninja.

She's grown soft in this world of white.

So, when Zuri of the Kitsune tribe saw the daughter of Lord Godo running rivers of blood down the sides of the bed she shared with her husband, something in Zuri reawakened. She clutched her fist so tightly that her perfectly lacquered nails drew blood.

She lifted her head and remembered what it meant to swear loyalty to her city, her home and her Princess.

--

Chaos had claws that could grow exponentially with its desire. Its wings were shaped like the rounded edges of a knife, and sliced the sky easily as it flew like a shadow, heavier than thought and pain combined, over the silent city. Snow would fall on Chaos' back only to rise like steam back into the air. Its jaw snapped and tore apart the silence.

Its desire was to kill.

It spotted its prey and dived to the ground, its jaws opening wide to reveal teeth that glistened, a tongue that ran over its open, crack lips. A smell like sulfur followed its movements as it spiraled in the air once before landing in snow tainted pink.

--

Learning to crawl was a blow to his ego. What would his brother say? Through slants of his falling hair, he could see her face, lit like a star. The snow fell and fell, rendering his wheelchair useless. So what he did instead was throw himself bodily out the hard chrome chair to lie like a doll on the snow. A broken doll; the wind and chill of the early morning steeped up his broken legs like a warning. But when he looked up and up, he saw her against the grey of sky. And he crawled, summoning every bit of strength to move himself forward, sometimes falling back against the snow in exhaustion, sometimes tumbling over from a miscalculated step.

His voice never stopped, even with the wind blowing against his bowed head. "Please, no more, no more."

From the corner of his eye, Yazoo saw the story before it happened; the little girl had a face that was his brother's before pain happened and the little boy kicked up snow with his footsteps. They were running hopelessly down the quiet street and Yazoo was crawling, crawling out of the forest that stood outside the town to stop what he knew was going to happen.

The truth was a hard blow that came out of nowhere. He screamed before Yazoo could; the girl fell forward, spattering blood as she went and the boy could not catch her before the snow did.

Pulled by something greater than sorrow or hate, Yazoo turned his head and saw; his brother's gun sent curls of smoke delicately into the air and everywhere was the smell of gunpowder.

In that instant, Yazoo knew. He could not go back and death would not hurt half as bad as the sight of that little boy, whimpering and clutching to the girl who looked so much like Loz, or even Yazoo himself.

--

When Chaos descended, he was already crouching over Tynan's crying figure, one hand pressed against Soleil's still back. The fierce light in his eyes spoke more about retribution than anything he could ever say, his mouth uncharacteristically set against the soft of his face. Somewhere deep inside, Chaos could feel a cry of joy, a sudden flood of relief at the sight of this man with his silver hair and those blue-green eyes glaring up and up at Chaos' intended prey.

Yazoo spoke first, his words falling from his lips to settle against the slant of Loz's hand, still curled tight against a silver gun. "What will this bring but more hate, brother?"

"She would not –"

"And you would kill because she disobeyed you?" The smell of gunpowder overwhelmed Yazoo's heaving body, but he drew the strength he needed to speak from Tynan's cries, the hurt found there enough to give Yazoo's anger wings. "You know who she is! You killed one of us!"

"She's nothing but an offspring of an offspring."

"HER NAME WAS SOLEIL!." Tynan's voice was fragmented by the heave and strain of tears against his very being. "HER NAME!" And he charged for Loz, even before Yazoo could reach out a hand to stop him, he jumped from the spot where he crouched, his half grown hands pulling and tugging at the soft spot near the middle of Loz's neck. "SHE WASN'T NOTHING!

"STOP IT!" He begged, he pleaded and what happened was that when Loz lifted his gun once more, Yazoo's hands were already wrapped tightly around Loz's left ankle. He pressed his crying face against Loz's leather boot and inhaled the scent of anger that was everywhere at once. "PLEASE!"

"Let him go." The voice of Chaos was a deep resonant iron; it did not shine like a star but emitted a fire of its own. With a heavy claw, Chaos swatted at the back of Loz's head and sent the gruff man sprawling to the ground, Tynan clinging to Loz's falling body.

When a growl, Chaos spread out wings that cut like the night and Tynan, in his grief, scrambled from Loz's body to crouch near Soleil's own. There was no fear, there was no anger but a sadness so profound that the being that was Chaos almost withdrew from this plane of existence to bring forth Vincent, a man well versed in pain. But instead, Chaos crackled jaws with teeth that tore at the silence and turned to Loz.

"Hello, remnant."

--

He had a memory that was so sharp it stung like ice against an open wound. There was a night where lying on that makeshift bed in a cave hidden deep, deep in a glittering forest, he could not sleep, he could not waste away the hours with idle thought or small daydreams. It was night, that deep heavy hour right before the grey hours of early morning and the cave was cold, frigid to the touch. There was a sudden eruption of sound that seemed to come from all corners, all at once and he lifted himself up on one elbow to investigate.

There, by the light of the single candle on the table, he saw. Wings that unfurled in the static of air, claws that glistened and a monster from the man that he was slowly starting to trust as a brother and a friend and Yazoo knew.

He held a secret inside him that tore away at his mind; Vincent did too.

Looking up now, regardless of the snow and the blood that steeped from Soleil's still body, Yazoo saw.

Death was coming, and what could he do but prepare himself to cry and cry, endlessly as if sadness would not end even if life did.

--

A Turk knew three things as instinctively as a hawk does the sky, a fish to water and a fox to the woods. The first was to strike first from afar, and to that end, a sniper rifle was set on the roof of the church, exactly 200 ft from the intended target. For eight hours, they were trailing the remnants, both of them from high above or from across the way. It was easy enough, with one of the remnants confined to a wheelchair and the other unable to leave his brother alone for minutes at a time.

What they did not count on was the sudden appearance of a child who could have been a remnant herself, with the same hair and eyes as Sephiroth himself. They were planning on capturing her as well for testing however, things became more complicated when it was evident the young boy that followed her was an descent of Grimoire Valentine himself, there was no denying the shock of black hair and light eyes. And then Vincent Valentine appeared with his current cohort Yuffie Kisaragi and Reno lost all contact with his support unit and from Midgar, both Rufus and Reeve threatened, ordered and pleaded that not a hair should be harmed on the Valentine family, including poor, blind Romulus who was blissfully unaware that his beloved older brother was not only alive, but in the very same town as he was.

To sum it all up, perhaps Rude's response to it all best expressed the situation; "Now that's fucked up."

The second thing that all Turks knew was that emotions were a blinding veil and be damned assured that if a mission failed because someone got soft would mean various forms of punishment so after Rude, Elena and Tseng was briefed on the history of the Valentine family (and how Rufus would make amends by erasing Vincent's file after the remnants were taken care of), Tseng did little more but make a note to look further into the research of a certain Gilon Valentine, who appeared to take up where Grimoire left off and told Elena to hold off the sniper shot until Loz was in clear view.

The third was a secret, but it was what made Rude pray, for the first time in his life since joining the Turks, for a salvation he hoped was waiting for all of them someplace far off. When Chaos bared teeth and charged at Loz, Rude crossed himself once, twice, for the child who watched with eyes that did not blink nor flinch with the same passivity that Vincent was well known for. He prayed for the remnant named Yazoo, the man Rude and Reno hunted for months, Yazoo who, even from this far off, had eyes that sent fear and repulsion curling down each and every one of their spines.

Even in tears, even in broken form, Yazoo and his brother Loz and the little girl who stopped breathing all recalled Sephiroth and the days that he brought a year ago, filled with a promise of utter destruction. Sephiroth was so close to destroying everything they knew and with Cloud out of commission, the world needed heroes, even ones who attacked from afar, fast and hard.

Memory had a way of shaping present action and when Tseng gave the signal, Elena fired one clear shot and Rude glanced away, making the sign of the cross with his free hand.

There must be a place for them to go, he prayed, let there be a place where they can go.

--

_Author's notes: That's right. An update and just in time for Christmas! Happy holidays everyone! I'm sorry that it took so long to write it. And everyone thought I was going to abandon this story – as if! And yes, I know the concept of Vincent having an estranged family in Great Glacier might be a bit farfetched, but somewhere in my mind it works. I know from Dirge of Cerberus that Grimoire Valentine was a researcher as well, and I always envisioned him in Great Glacier. It makes sense, I tell you! And also, the age difference between Romulus and Vincent works out as well, I think it's about 30 years since Vincent was put to sleep. So yes! Comments? Questions? Love? Send it all my way._


End file.
